End of the Line
by JoaniexJony
Summary: When Tony gets abducted he doesn't know who his assailants are or why they took him. His main goal - staying alive. Gibbs pulls out all the stops to find him but in the middle of the search his team is called out to a murder… Don't worry I don't kill him! This is a Tony/Gibbs story (not slash) but all the team make an appearance. Hope you enjoy the ride!
1. Chapter 1

When Tony gets abducted he doesn't know his assailants or why they took him. His main goal - staying alive. Gibbs pulls out all the stops to find him but in the middle of the search his team is called out to a murder…

Don't worry - I don't kill him! However, I'm not very nice to Tony in this fic. This is a Tony/Gibbs story but all the team make an appearance. Hope you enjoy the ride!

Disclaimer: - I don't own the show or the characters, but I do like to play with them occasionally.

Warnings: - There is a little bad language but mainly this is a dark story with a lot of violence. If that's not your thing you have been warned...

Many thanks to my pal and beta Sterenyk Strey for all her hard work and great suggestions. You're a star pet!

**End of the Line**.

**Chapter 1**

Tony did his best to keep still but the reflex was automatic. As Ducky shone the bright light into his eyes spiking his headache, he blinked.

"Anthony…I appreciate this may be a little uncomfortable, but could you at least _try_ not to blink."

Ducky's sigh of frustration brought him up short. Combined with the unspoken warning on Gibbs' face as his boss looked on with his arms crossed, Tony sat up straight and forced his lids to stay open for the remainder of the exam. "Sorry, Ducky."

Like a good special agent he did as he was told, but by the time Ducky finished torturing him his eyes were streaming and the man banging the drum in his brain was building up to a big finish. His headache aside, nothing compared to the damage to his ego. He was sure McGoo had filmed the whole thing. His spectacular tumble from the top of the stairs into the squad room was classic slapstick. It was a given that by tonight he would have a starring role on YouTube. Charlie Chaplin did his own stunts. Tony wondered if it had hurt this much...

He tried not to squirm as the ME probed the back of his head, but he hissed and flinched away when the medic hit pay dirt. "_Ow!_"

Ducky winced in sympathy. "That's quite a bump you have there. However, you will be pleased to learn it's only a shallow cut and doesn't require stitches. As there isn't any obvious sign of a concussion I see no reason why you cannot return to work, but if you start to feel sick or dizzy let either myself or Gibbs know at once."

"I'm fine. Gibbs has hit me harder." Tony waited for a comeback from the man himself, but when none came and Gibbs stoic expression remained unchanged, he sighed. "Don't worry I know the drill, Ducky. If I start seeing two of McGeek, I'll call. Come to think of it if that happened I'll call Ghostbusters instead." He pretended to shudder and gave the medic a small smile, but Ducky just shook his head at the bad joke. He stole another glance at the boss. Gibbs wasn't amused either. Damn. He'd really screwed up this time.

"Thanks, Ducky." Tony gingerly eased rather than jumped off the table. He might not have a concussion but the pounding in his skull was making him a little light-headed, and the last thing he wanted was to draw any more attention than he'd done already. Palmer handed him an ice pack. He took it gratefully, wincing as it made contact with the growing bump. It took a minute but the simple cure soon began to do its work and the discomfort started to ease.

Ducky was tiding up, but suddenly he stopped and turned round. "I know you hit your head falling down the stairs, but may I ask what caused the accident in the first place?"

Tony could feel the flush rise in his cheeks. There was never a hole when you needed one…

"Well, DiNozzo…_tell_ the man."

His boss looked pissed, and Tony's voice cracked slightly as he mumbled a reply. "I…err…got distracted and well…I sort of missed my footing."

"Distracted!_ Sort_ of missed your footing - you were flirting!" Ziva snorted with fake laughter as she came over to join Gibbs, matching his stance. "I saw the whole performance. You were so busy trying to impress the director's new secretary you didn't watch where you were going! While I agree she is _quite_ pretty, I have since found out she is also _very _married." Tony's face fell, but undaunted by his misery Ziva continued her rant. "Tell me, Tony…was she really worth nearly breaking your neck for?"

"I've heard of falling head over heels in love, but this is a first." Jimmy quipped, grinning, but his smile faded and he made himself scarce when Ducky drew him a reproachful look.

"Regardless of why it happened, Tony has taken a nasty fall." Ducky gave his patient a pat on the shoulder. "I suggest you stick to desk duty for the rest of the day and soak in a nice warm bath when you get home. A bath rather than a shower if you have one as I dare say your headache will be joined by a few bruises later on."

Tony could tell Ziva was getting ready for another verbal onslaught, but his head was bursting and he wasn't in the mood for a sparring match. Surprising, it was Gibbs who let him off the hook. "_Why_ are you down here, Ziva?"

Caught off guard the Israeli hesitated for a moment. "The director wants to see you."

"Sure hope it wasn't urgent." Gibbs drawled, not trying to hide his sarcasm.

"I am sorry, Gibbs…" Ziva went scarlet.

Gibbs ignored her apology and his glare look took in the pair of them. "The show is over. Get back to work...both of you." Tony didn't need telling twice and nodded to Ziva to follow his lead. For once she didn't protest his seniority.

Once they were in the sanctity of the elevator Tony gave her a nudge. "C'mon, admit it. You were worried about me, weren't you?"

"Me…of course not!" Ziva huffed, but didn't look at him. "You have a hard head. Perhaps the fall knocked some sense into it. Although I very much doubt if that is even possible."

Tony smirked as she stormed into the bullpen. It was fun yanking her chain, almost worth the headache…

Gibbs waited until they were gone before he took Ducky aside. "Tony was out for a couple of minutes. Are you sure he's okay, Ducky?"

The elderly man smiled. "I have no doubt young Anthony will have quite a headache, but so far I can see nothing to cause any alarm. Still, it may be prudent to keep an eye on him for the rest of the day and, it wouldn't do any harm to give him a call later this evening. One can never be too cautious with head injuries."

"Got it, Duck." Gibbs nodded storing the information, then left as abruptly as he came.

Ducky watched him leave, shook his head and spoke out loud to the empty room. "One day, Jethro, you'll admit just how much the people in your team mean to you. I just hope I'll still be alive to hear it..."

ooooOoooo

It had been the day from hell so when Gibbs suggested he leave early, for once Tony didn't object. Granted, five-thirty wasn't what most folks considered early but by now every bruise in his body was making themselves felt, and getting stiffer by the minute he didn't want to chance being stuck in his chair all night.

Abby's concern was touching, but her less than gentle hug had nearly been his undoing when it forced out a reluctant squeak of pain. On the bright side at least it got a smile from Gibbs. The boss was normally a closed book, but Tony could tell his fall had worried him. He'd been stunned by the unguarded flash of anxiety as he'd started to come round. Felt like a heel as Gibbs half carried, half dragged his dumb ass down to Ducky.

Surprisingly McGee had been more concerned than amused – at first. As the day wore on it became clear his sympathy had disappeared around the same time as he heard sporadic laughter around the building. He couldn't prove it was his geeky team mate who'd downloaded the video feed of his first unaided flight, but his smug expression said it all.

In a way Tony couldn't blame them, under different circumstances he'd have found it funny too. He was sure that one day he could watch it and laugh…Gibbs on the other hand went ballistic. The boss didn't raise his voice then again, he didn't need to. His cold, hard stare and icy tone was enough to leave no one in any doubt the fate of anybody who dared broadcast it outside. A stony silence followed. For a long time it was only punctuated by the sound of fingers thumping keyboards as people kept their heads down and their mouths shut. When Gibbs angry gaze landed on McGee last, Tim's face was a picture. He'd wanted to laugh but thought better of it. His literal fall from grace had already put him in Gibbs bad books and it didn't pay to push his luck. Besides, his stomach muscles were sore.

As he carefully hauled himself out the chair he was aware of Gibbs watching him. From his expression Tony wasn't sure if his boss was concerned, or pissed at him for being so stupid. When he limped past his desk Gibbs spoke without looking up. "Arnica gel is good for bruises. And, Tony - keep your phone on."

"I will. Thanks for the tip, Boss…see you tomorrow."

Ziva and McGee wished him goodnight, but he was too beat to reply. He settled for a careless wave in their general direction as he dragged his aching body towards the lift.

Only when he reached the privacy of his car did he lean back, close his eyes and give way to the groan he'd been holding in all day. What a mess. He'd made a fool of himself in front of Gibbs and even if the lovely Melissa had been single, after that humiliating performance it was a given she wouldn't be interested in a numb chuck like him. On a positive note at least there was nothing broken _and_ he'd managed to avoid the emergency room. Also, tomorrow his tumble would be old news. Folks would have forgotten all about it. Yeah, _Right_…

His stomach was growling but neither dizzy nor nauseous Tony knew it was just hunger. He'd just been about to eat his beef on rye when he'd spotted Melissa going up the stairs. During the melee afterwards food had been the last thing on his mind, now he was starving. Pizza sounded good except his usual place kept screwing up his order. His neighbour raved about an Italian restaurant not far from his apartment. Tony knew of it but didn't like taking his dates so close to home so hadn't checked it out yet. Now seemed like a good time.

From the outside it looked like a Trattoria straight from the Godfather. The thought made him smile. He was still smiling when he went inside and saw the theme continued, right down to the red chequered cotton table covers and used Chianti bottles serving as candle holders on every table. Clichéd or not, all thoughts of ordering take-out vanished as the delicious aroma of garlic made him hanker for something else.

Normally he wouldn't have considered eating out alone but with a long night stretching ahead and the place virtually empty, he found himself asking for a table. The pretty waitress had an Audrey Hepburn look going on, and her beaming smile did wonders for his wounded ego.

It was the usual Italian fare and after scanning the menu he looked up. "What do you recommend?"

"The seafood risotto is good, but Chef's just made a fresh batch of lasagne. They say it's to die for."

"Well, who am I to go against public opinion," he grinned, "I'll have the lasagne." He closed the menu and handed it back with a flourish.

"Would you like some wine with that?" She asked with her pen poised over the pad.

"That's tempting, but I'm driving. Make it a mineral water, grazie mille - con gas." Tony didn't have a chance to practice Italian often and was pleased the small burst brought another smile to her face.

Just as she went to leave the waitress turned round. "Will anyone be joining you?"

His shake of the head made her blush. Her eyes sparking as she took away the extra setting. This spur of the moment decision was turning out to be one of his best. Maybe the day wasn't going to be a complete bust after all.

ooooOoooo

Mario Vicente savoured the last of his cigar, ground it out on the rough cast wall and threw the butt into the trash.

Discussions were going well, but he'd learned from experience it was unwise to give away your hand. Just like poker it was essential to keep the other players guessing. Even if you had poor cards, with nerve and patience it was possible to turn things your way.

He needed the two men inside, needed them badly. Their connections and skill set were essential if he was to expand his business but, if they found out just how much their price would go up. So he was playing it cool. In making them wait, he was showing them who was in charge. He smiled at the memory of his beloved father. His papa taught him everything he knew - the old man would have been proud.

It was starting to get dark and in the early evening air he shivered. A glance at his watch told him he'd left his visitors nearly ten minutes ago to take an _important_ call. It was nothing more than his daughter dialling then hanging up but the ruse worked the way he'd intended, their expressions as he started discussing business with another _prospective partner,_ priceless. Mario guessed in another couple of minutes they would be like putty in his hands. He was already the main supplier of party drugs in the city, but he had much bigger plans. If all went well he would soon be expanding his business throughout the rest of the US and if this meeting panned out, overseas.

Before he returned inside Mario schooled his expression into one of indifference but his gut tightened as confused and alarmed, he saw his guests preparing to leave. "What is wrong, gentlemen? If you don't like the food, I can instruct Chef to make something else." He smiled and kept his tone light, but his attempt at humor fell flat as the men glared at him while continuing to hastily button up their coats.

Red-faced, one of the men motioned him over to the side while the other scanned the restaurant. "How dumb do you think we are? If I find out you've tried to set us up… Let's just say you aren't the only one with contacts – _capiche?_"

The implied threat combined with the disparaging use of his native language made him see red, but slitting the sarcastic American's throat wouldn't achieve anything. Something had happened in the short time he'd left them alone and a quick look around the restaurant revealed the answer. There was a man, a stranger, sitting alone in the corner. Mario didn't need to see his badge or gun to know what he did for a living. All cops had an _air_ about them. He'd spent a lot of time, effort and money keeping his business under wraps, not to mention the local PD off his back. If this man was police, there shouldn't be any problems. Question was, why was he here?

He watched the stranger smile at Carla when she brought over his meal and heard her laugh at something he'd said. A man flirting with his daughter annoyed him at any time, but Mario used the distraction to guide the men out the restaurant and into his office. Away from prying eyes, he tried to rescue the situation.

"Look…I too can tell the man is police but there is no need for alarm. He has probably heard Chef's pasta is the best in the city." Mario forced a smile on his face, but the two men stared at him in stony silence. "In any event it does not matter. You have my word, the police will _not_ be a problem."

"And NCIS? Are they in your pocket too?" The shorter of the two men growled though gritted teeth.

"Who?"

The two men exchanged a glance and after an unspoken exchange seemed to relax a little. It was the older of the two, a stocky man with dark hair who explained. "NCIS is naval intelligence – Navy cops. That man out there is one of them. I can't remember his name, but he came into my department a couple of months ago to question my boss about a case."

Comprehension dawned on him, along with the knowledge this business deal was going down the tubes. "I understand your concern, but I can assure you I have never seen this man before…I tell you what, gentlemen. Why don't I show you out the back way, and we can continue this meeting another time?" With no answer immediately forthcoming, Mario didn't waste any more time. "Fine. Follow me."

As he walked them into the alley Mario hid his disappointment. "If you wish to arrange another meeting, call me. If I do not hear from you by tomorrow evening, I will assume our business has concluded." While he was talking the men barely acknowledged his presence. He understood their concerns but his patience was wearing thin as they melted into the shadows without giving him the simple courtesy of a spoken reply.

Mario dismissed their rudeness as bad breeding. He also hated waste. The uneaten food not only offended him but it also gave the other patrons a bad impression. On his way to the bar he signalled to Carla. She was still chatting to the cop and was visibly disappointed to be called away.

"Before you say anything, Tony is very nice, and he's Italian."

"_Tony_ is it? _And_ an Italian. That explains why he's such a quick worker." Mario snorted. Carla was glaring at him, but he ignored her red cheeks and glanced at the man as he poured himself a large brandy. "Did he say why he came here?"

She rolled her eyes. "This is a restaurant, why do you think he's here!" Her irritation fled as a flash of anger flew across her father's face. "I am sorry, Papa, I meant no disrespect. But if you keep chasing away all the customers who flirt with me, you will have no business left and…I will end up an old maid."

He could never stay angry with his daughter for long. Mario took her hands and gently pulled her to him. "There is no chance of that, my love, you are far too beautiful for your own good." His heart ached and he sighed as he remembered his beloved wife who'd died of cancer just two years before. "If your mother were alive things would be different but she isn't...so it's my job to protect you." He kissed the top of her head. "Now go and clear up that table while I speak to this…Tony."

"_Papa_…" Carla groaned, and with a long sigh she went to do as she was told.

The man's cell rang as he walked over. Tony looked up as he approached the table. "Excuse me, I need to take this."

Mario stood slightly to the side but was still within earshot as the conversation unfolded. From the exasperated tone of Tony's responses, it was clear the person on the other end was a parent. He was quietly amused as Tony made the same faces to the unseen caller that Carla gave him when she was irritated by something he said. Within minutes, he'd snapped the phone shut and smiled. "Sorry about that. Is this your place? Because the food is to die for…"

"Yes it is, and the girl who served you is my daughter."

Tony flinched. "_Sorry_…I know how it must have looked, but I meant no disrespect to you or your daughter. Carla is a beautiful girl, you must be very proud of her."

Mario wanted to dislike him but his manners were impeccable. He could understand why Carla was attracted to him but apart from the obvious age gap between them, there was another matter to consider. "You were not to know, and yes I am very proud, protective parent. That is why I don't want her dating a policeman."

The humor fled from Tony's face and he went quiet for a moment. "What gave it away? Was it the suit?"

Mario shook his head and smiled. "Partly…although it is a _very_ nice suit. No, I have many friends on the force and…"

"_And _we all give out the same vibe." Tony put his napkin down on the table. "Think it's time I got the bill."

By the time Mario brought it over, Tony had his coat on. Mario watched him pay not only the bill, but lay down a generous tip. "It was nice meeting you, Mr…"

Tony smiled but didn't answer the question. "Give the chef my compliments. It was the best lasagne I've had in a long time."

Mario watched him leave then went into his office and closed the door. Only then did he pick up his cell. "It's me…I have a job for you."

ooooOoooo

Tony knew he'd had a lucky escape. Protective fathers were one thing, but Italian papa's were another deal altogether. Carla was a nice girl, but her dad gave him the chills. He wasn't afraid of the guy, but he couldn't rule out the possibility he might be connected.

It was cold out, and he pulled up the collar of his jacket. The hot meal had filled a hole, but on the move again he could feel every aching muscle of his sore, stiff body. A young couple passed by. The man's arm round her waist pulled her in until they walked as one, and she was smiling, laughing at something he said. An image of Jeannie came to mind, catching him off guard. He missed having someone, missed her, but Ziva was right. The man she'd fallen in love with was a teacher, not an NCIS agent. Lies were not a good foundation for a lasting relationship, no matter how good she'd felt in his arms.

A guy was leaning, slumped against a street light holding on as if his life depended on it. Tony smiled trying to remember if he'd ever got that hammered when the drunk staggered and lunged against him. He managed to keep his footing, just, but swore as the man's bony knee collided with his already painful thigh. Tony grimaced as he none too gently dragged the heavy guy to his feet and steadied him. He was on the verge of reaching for his cell to call him a cab when the man mumbled something that sounded like an apology and resumed his shambling path down the street.

He didn't know if it was the unwelcome memory, the cold, or the collision, but the headache which had all but disappeared was back with a vengeance. He remembered Ducky's warning, but home was only a few minutes away and he was sure all he needed was a good night's sleep.

Tony fumbled for his car keys but as he went to put them in the lock, a wave of dizziness sent him sprawling against the car, and the keys falling to the ground. Suddenly the world was spinning, his stomach heaving as he clung against the cold metal waiting for the roller-coaster ride to end. Trembling, his hand found his cell but as he brought it up to make a call he yelped as something hard slammed against his fingers forcing it out his grasp.

In agony Tony fell to his knees cradling his broken hand against his chest, and a kaleidoscope of colors flashed in front of his eyes but the dry, rancid taste told him drugs, not concussion was responsible.

His vision was greying out and it took all his remaining strength to pull his head up to see his attacker. Too late he heard a laugh as an iron-like fist connected with his jaw banging his skull against the unforgiving side walk, and sending him into oblivion...

ooooOoooo

TBC.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and please review - I love to know what you think!


	2. End of the Line Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all the alerts! I'm delighted so many of you are following the story. **

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**Now, on with the story...**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 2**

From the elevator he could hear Ziva and McGee talking about something, but when he arrived at the bull pen they shut up and exchanged a look before acknowledging his presence.

"Good morning, Gibbs."

"Morning, Boss."

Their greeting was said almost in unison, but he wasn't fooled for a second. The way they got quickly back to work and avoided looking at Tony's empty desk, spoke volumes.

Gibbs stole a glance at the corner desk as he stowed away his gun and badge, and wondered what the story was. When he'd spoken to Tony last night he'd sounded okay, if a little pissed at being disturbed while he was having dinner. It wasn't like DiNozzo to be this late, but after the fall he'd taken yesterday the guy was bound to be sore. He decided to cut him some slack, but only a little.

Out the corner of his eye he saw McGee making faces at Ziva. He pretended not to notice, but could practically hear the whirring as their brains tried to figure out why he hadn't said anything. Part of him respected them for covering for their team mate, but if Tony didn't call or make an appearance soon… On cue his cell rang, but it wasn't the call he was hoping for.

"Gear up…we have a missing marine."

Ziva was on her feet before he'd finished speaking. "How long?"

"Twelve hours."

"Err…excuse me, Boss, but don't we usually wait until someone's been missing twenty-four hours first?" Tim offered, looking at him puzzled.

"Yup…but his wife's been calling since her contractions started last night. Somehow I think he would have appeared by now – don't you?" There was no more time for guessing games. Gibbs finally acknowledged the elephant in the room addressing the question to the both of them. "Has either of you heard from DiNozzo?"

Ziva glanced at Tim and from the change in her expression he knew they hadn't been covering. "When he failed to come in I called his cell. It went straight to voice mail. After his accident yesterday I wondered if he had called in sick to you."

McGee came over to join them. "I passed his place this morning on the way to pick up my dry-cleaning. I didn't see his car, but I know there's an issue with parking. Last week Tony was complaining if he got home late the only space he could get was nearly half a mile away."

Gibbs cursed himself for not following his instincts. He pulled out his keys, yanked one from the holder and threw it to McGee. "Get round to Tony's place. Take Ducky with you. He was fine when I called last night but maybe something's wrong. Ziva…you're with me."

ooooOoooo

The maternity unit looked a lot different since Shannon had given birth, but the flash of nostalgia brought back bitter sweet memories as he walked into the ward.

Like any other medical facility patient care was paramount. Unlike anywhere else, there was an air of anticipation, even joy at the thought of new life being brought into the world. He remembered arriving just in time for his daughter to be placed into his arms. After that, life was never the same.

Shannon had looked exhausted. To him she was beautiful, but at that moment she possessed a fragility that stirred every protective instinct. He'd wanted to lift her into his arms and carry them away. Take them home. Keep them safe. Protect her. Protect both of them…

He stopped at the nurse's station. "Where can I find Mrs Williams?"

He remembered another birth. He'd delivered a child while bullets were flying, and the only thing between new life coming into the world and death was Ziva. There had been no pain relief for the tough marine, no comfortable bed to take the edge off, but he didn't begrudge the women here getting the best of care.

Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have responded to the report of a missing marine this soon however, it wasn't like an expectant father to miss a call like that. But, even if the guy turned out to have ice water in his veins, he didn't. Mrs Williams was going through enough of an ordeal without the added stress of a missing husband. If there was something NCIS could do to help, he'd make sure it was done.

With Ziva following behind, he knocked the door of the delivery room where Mrs Williams was having her baby. Gibbs waited a moment to give the woman a chance to make herself decent. When he walked inside, she looked surprised, then embarrassed. Gibbs saw why. Her missing husband was sitting beside her.

"Lt. Williams I presume?"

The woman's sweat streaked face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry…Simon's just got here," She stammered.

"You called NCIS!" Williams' glared at his wife, raking a hand through his hair.

Gibbs wasn't happy at the waste of his team's valuable time, but he could excuse Mrs Williams for the call out. What he couldn't and wouldn't excuse was the way this moron was speaking to his pregnant wife. "Lieutenant…a word please."

"Can't it wait? I'm here. Everything is okay – case closed."

For the woman's sake Gibbs kept his tone light but he didn't like the guys attitude. He also wanted answers. "_Now,_ Lieutenant - outside."

With ill grace the guy stormed out his seat and barged past him. Covered in sweat and grime the guy was a mess, and from look of his cut and swollen knuckles, he'd been in a fight. Gibbs homed in on the injury. "Want to tell me what happened, Lieutenant?"

"Marie wasn't due for another three weeks and I just wanted a little fun…yah know…before I'm bogged down with diapers."

"So you decided to keep your cell off…" Ziva's disdain clear by the tone of her voice.

Williams started to get flustered. "No, of course not! I just forgot to charge it – that's all. I panicked when I saw all the missed calls."

Gibbs drew him a look, "_Uh huh_…so where were you all this time?"

Williams winced, looking uncomfortable. "I got drunk...ended up taking a swing at a guy who said something about marines. My buddy pulled me away and dragged me back to his. I'm not proud of my behaviour, Special Agent?"

"Gibbs…"

"Look, I'm real sorry Marie called you guys out." He attempted a conciliatory smile, but it fell flat and withered under Gibbs stare. "Seriously…I know you have more to do than search for a missing drunk."

He did. The number one priority, finding DiNozzo. "Hey, don't apologize to me…it's the woman in there you should apologize to."

The man nodded but Gibbs decided the scarlet flooding his cheeks was down to anger at being pulled up by NCIS. Not remorse at leaving his wife to go on a bender. He felt sorry for the woman. He hoped the guy bucked up his act to become a decent husband and father.

"Sure…Now if you don't mind I'd like to get back in there. I don't want to miss my son coming into the world."

Williams smile didn't reach his eyes. Gibbs didn't often dislike people on sight, but the young Lieutenant was fast joining the elite few.

"Before you leave, Lieutenant. I need the name of the friend you stayed with."

Ziva's question was innocent enough, but Williams didn't look happy.

"What? I got drunk, I slept at a friend's house – period. It's not like I robbed a bank or anything." Williams rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine…his name is Captain Paul Brownlee. He works in supplies and requisitions."

Gibbs waited for Ziva to scribble the information down before giving her a nod to leave and check her cell. He wanted an update on Tony. Gibbs didn't like being messed about, but given the situation decided to give the tardy Lieutenant a break. "You'd better get back inside, Lieutenant…and congratulations. What you have is precious. Don't blow it."

Ziva was winding up her call to Tim as he approached. From her expression Gibbs knew something was up. "Well?"

"Tony is not at his apartment. McGee could not be sure, but it did not appear he went home last night."

"What about his car?"

"McGee has searched the full area around the apartment block but there is no sign of it. I said I would join him to expand the search. Tony's car is distinctive. If he parked further afield, I am sure we will find it.

"Do it…Put out a BOLO in the meantime."

Gibbs gut was doing flip flops. If Tony had been admitted to hospital as next of kin, he would have been notified. So where the hell was he?

ooooOoooo

Tony didn't know how long he'd been hanging there but his shoulders were screaming under the strain, and his hands were numb. The rope around his wrists tied so tight, even his broken fingers didn't hurt any more.

Given his predicament it was dumb that worried him more than anything else, then again, what would happen if he didn't get the circulation back? Would he lose his fingers, his hands? Gibbs would have no use for a guy who couldn't use a gun. NCIS was his life. Without it…That was a dark place he didn't want to go.

_Gibbs._ His boss would know he was missing by now. There would be a BOLO out, and no stone would be left unturned. He had faith in him. Faith in his team. There was no doubt in his mind they would find him, question was would he still be alive? Tony swallowed the bile in his throat and tried to push back the negative thought. Of all the ways he'd imagined he could die, being tortured to death hadn't been high on his list. Then again at least the slow, agonizing method would give his team more time to find him – provided he lasted that long.

His broken fingers were no longer throbbing, but the rest of his battered body made up for it in spades. When he'd first surfaced from the drug-induced fog he'd tried to reason with his abductors, make sense of why he'd been taken. Was it a case of mistaken identity? It still wouldn't have been right, but any hopes they'd confused him with someone else were soon dashed when it became clear they believed he was spying on them. Now, after hours of being strung up like a piece of meat and used as a punch bag, he reckoned the bastards were starting to realize he was innocent. Problem was he was now a liability...

The men hadn't been smart enough to cover their faces. Then with a sickening thud in the pit of his stomach he got it. They'd always intended to kill him. They hadn't revealed their names either, but despite wearing civvies the short hair cuts marked them as military – probably Navy. From their questions it was clear they were up to their eyes in something big. What, he hadn't figured out yet.

He'd nicknamed the biggest guy Rocky. Not because of the resemblance, although the guy shared Stallone's dark hair and from his biceps he was no stranger to the gym. No, he'd named him because the bastard _loved _his body blows. Tony was pretty sure he was re-enacting his favorite scene from the movie. Him, he had the non-speaking part of the slab of beef…

The smaller guy he'd named Bullwinkle. Why? Just _because_. At any rate he'd left the party early. While Tony was pleased to see him go, Rocky wasn't tiring like he'd hoped.

His head was pounding, his aching brain sluggish. It felt twice its usual size, too heavy for his shoulders, but he kept it raised so he could look them in the eye, show them he wasn't scared – piss them off. He wondered if his stubborn streak did him any favors as Rocky's iron-fist showing no sign of letting up as he tore into his gut, his face, his back.

His vision was blurred. Concussed for sure now, plus he couldn't see a damn thing out his right eye. Did he regret it? He didn't know. He didn't know anything. He couldn't think straight anymore.

Rocky's cell went off. While he went outside to take the call Tony tried to focus, get some clue as to where he was and take the opportunity to wriggle his toes. He'd hoped if he shifted his weight slightly it might ease the painful spasms running through his back. He'd thought wrong. All it did was start up the pain in his hands again as pins and needles, like spikes of electricity, added to his misery. At least there was one comforting thought. His circulation was a-okay and then some.

He already knew he was in a warehouse and from the icy draft blowing in, he guessed it was near the docks. What the hell was it about this place? The bad karma was mind blowing. Gibbs had nearly died here after his car had barrelled into the water. Then there was the time he'd been boxed in with Ziva…

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Special Agent. Now…where were we?"

Tony figured he'd zoned out when he hadn't heard him returning. Not wanting to spoil the act he quickly forced a smile on his face. In the process the split on his lip widened spilling blood into his mouth and down his chin, but he kept it in place regardless of how much it hurt.

"Back so soon? So...who was it? It was the wife, wasn't it! Was she ragging on you for not coming home last night? C'ause you don't need to stay on my account –"

Sparks exploded as another backhander nearly knocked his head off his shoulders. In a world of pain he was on the verge of passing out when the blood dripping from his nose into his mouth set off a coughing jag. He aimed, sending a spray of blood and spit over his assailant. Rocky didn't look happy.

"You know what, DiNozzo…I'm not sure if you're really good at keeping secrets, or if you're a dumb schmuck who happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But…I have a way to find out."

Tony gave him a lopsided grin. "Nah, I'm hopeless at keeping a secret, just ask Abby…"

Suddenly he remembered the soft-hearted Goth, wondering if he would ever see her again. See any of them again. It threw him for a moment but he quickly slid on the DiNozzo charm for one last offensive. "Look, if I'd known anything about whatever the hell you're been beating the crap out of me to find out, don't you think I'd have told you by now?" Hoarse, the weakness in his voice surprised him. He made up for it by locking eyes with his attacker. "What is the deal anyway? Smuggling? Drugs? I sure hope it isn't human trafficking, because that's really scraping the bottom of the barrel – even for a sadist like you."

The vein on his thick neck stood up as the guy went scarlet with anger. "What kind of man do you think I am? I'd never…" Then suddenly he broke into a mirthless chuckle. "_Oh,_ you're smart, Special Agent, you've just narrowed it down. But it doesn't matter. Even if you don't know zip, you're not going to leave here alive."

Tony's mouth went dry as he watched the man remove his belt, double it up, and wind it round his hand leaving the buckle side up. The intent was nauseatingly clear.

"Let me guess. Is that what _daddy_ did to you?"

"No…My father was a good man. My uncle on the other hand didn't want a noisy kid in the house. I learned a _lot_ from him." Rocky's eyes narrowed on the belt as he tightened it in his hand. When he snapped out of the fugue he'd been in he turned to Tony. "Time we got started. Just yell if you want to tell me something, Special Agent DiNozzo. If you admit to spying on us I might even stop and put you out your misery."

Tony's heart started to race but he managed to keep his tone light even if his voice did come out as a whisper. "Come to think of it I do have something to tell you." As the man came in close to listen, Tony spat out all the remaining blood into his face. "Go to hell!"

The man lunged at him pounding on his gut, until he was struggling to breathe through the pain ripping through his body and the blood pouring from his nose. It hurt like hell but somewhere deep inside Tony knew there was much worse to come.

He couldn't control the shivers as the guy went behind him. He'd be damned if he was going to scream, wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. Tony clenched his jaw and closed his eyes but nothing could prepare him for the first agonizing lash. The slick, raw pain took him by surprize as along with the skin, it tore a low guttural groan from his throat...

ooooOoooo

TBC

Okay...so now the whump begins in earnest!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review. I'd love to know what you think of the story so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews - I'm thrilled you're enjoying the story! I have quite a few**** twists and turns planned before the end, so I hope you all enjoy a mystery...**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 3**

Tony could drive him crazy with his practical jokes and constant movie references, but he was the best young agent Gibbs had ever worked with.

Underneath the laid back demeanour lay a sharp brain, a conscientious worker and a good heart. Tony tried to hide it, but Gibbs had seen through the act years ago. These days he reckoned it was pretty much an open secret but everyone played along. They knew, just as he did, if DiNozzo got a whiff his cover was blown he just wouldn't be the same Tony anymore.

The men's room had been empty when he'd walked in. It was one of the few places he normally got a few minutes peace and quiet, but today the silence wasn't as cathartic as it usually was. Gibbs attended to nature, washed his hands, then let the faucet run waiting until the water was freezing before splashing it over his face. Temporary blinded, he reached for the paper towels only to feel one placed in his grasp.

"Any news?" Ducky asked quietly.

Gibbs wiped his face but the hard paper only removed the excess water. He reached for another but waited until he'd dried his hands and threw both towels in the trash, before he answered his old friend. "No…at least nothing good. None of his neighbors has seen him. We can't find his car. It doesn't look like he's been home since he came to work yesterday, and there's no signal coming from his cell."

"You _will_ find him, Jethro. Or he will find a way to contact you."

"If he can…Something's happened to him, Duck, something bad. I can feel it in my gut."

The two men went silent for a moment then the elderly ME put a hand on his arm. "Perhaps, but Tony is one of the most resilient young men I've ever met. In fact," he smiled slightly, "he reminds me a lot of you at that age."

"I've never worn Armani in my life…"

He knew Ducky was only trying to lighten the mood, but the knot in his gut tightened when an image of Tony smiling as he sauntered into the bullpen caught him unawares.

"Young Anthony may have a different tailor but whether you care to admit it or not he has the same commitment to duty, the same moral compass and dare I say it…the same dysfunctional relationships with women as you have." Ducky let out a long sigh. "In fact there have been times I've thought he could have been the son you never had. You also share a love of classic sports cars, even if your taste runs more to boat building these days."

Gibbs didn't comment. The yellow and black Dodge Challenger that lay in his garage did hold a special place in his heart, mainly because his old man had finished the project he'd abandoned in his teens.

He remembered the day well. He hadn't been looking forward to going home but as soon as he'd clapped eyes on his dad, the years melted away. Looking back, he'd enjoyed it more than he realized. Helping out in the small store, getting to know, understand the man he'd shunned for so long, had started the healing. But it was the day his old man handed over the keys of the car he'd bought as a kid that began a new phase in their relationship. Tony loved the car almost as much as he did. Every time he came over he berated him for not using it, nagged to take it for a spin. Gibbs had never said no, he'd never yes either. Next time Tony came round he could borrow it for as long as he damn well pleased. He just hoped there would be a next time.

"Boss…"

The two men turned round to see a slightly nervous looking McGee standing just inside the door.

There had already been one intrusion on his privacy. Gibbs was beginning to think nowhere was sacrosanct. "Does this look like the office to you, McGee?"

Tim blushed. "I…I thought you'd want to know what I found."

Ducky drew him a look to go easy, but Gibbs was in no mood to take prisoners. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "Well…spit it out."

"I've checked the call log on Tony's cell. The last call he received was last night just before seven-thirty -"

"That was from me…" Gibbs interrupted. "I called to make sure he was okay after the fall. He didn't say where he was, but I guessed he was eating out. As he sounded okay I didn't ask. Did you get a hit on the location?"

McGee shook his head. "Sorry, all the cell tower can give is a general position."

"Split up the Gird – I want everyone out there looking."

"On it, Boss."

McGee left as quickly as he'd arrived. Gibbs went to follow him when Ducky's spoke. "None of this is your fault, Jethro."

"I know…but that doesn't make me feel any better."

Frustrated he walked away drawing a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the headache that had started when he found out Tony was missing. He was his boss, not his keeper. Unless there was a problem he didn't like to intrude on his team's private lives. Gibbs wished he could turn the clock back. Privacy or not, given a second chance he would ask the damn question.

ooooOoooo

Blood was dripping, pooling on the ground around his feet but Tony was in too much pain to care. Gibbs hadn't come. No one had. Superman wasn't going to fly in like a speeding bullet and save the day. There wasn't going to be a last minute rescue - he was going to die here.

Rocky had stopped asking questions, but he kept whipping him anyway. He could tell by the gleam in his eye the sadistic bastard got off on it. Any sympathy he'd had about the guy's abusive childhood, long gone. It hurt so much but he hadn't screamed. Yelping didn't count. At least he didn't think so and he'd only done that once, shocked at the ferocity of the first blow. Rocky had tried hard to make him cry out. Tried damn hard, but despite the agony he'd given him nothing. It was a small victory, maybe his last. If it was, at least he was checking out with his pride intact.

In a fog of pain at first Tony didn't realize he'd stopped. It was only when his body stopped swinging and the guy appeared splattered with blood, holding the belt in his hand, he knew it was over. Now it was time for the grand finale.

His partner had been AWOL for a while now and from the grumbling Rocky was doing, it was clear he wasn't happy about it. The man was tall and well built but the beam was high and he was struggling to cut him down. Tony was vaguely amused, pleased to be giving him so much trouble. He used the time wondering how he was going to die.

Despite the dangerous life he led he'd hoped to die of old age. However checking out beside the woman he loved, his eventual wife, was now a pipe dream. In his current situation if he was given a choice, it would be a bullet to the head. A nice quick death – if there was such a thing. With Rocky he doubted he would get that lucky.

If his suspicions were correct and they were near the peir, he reckoned that by tonight he would be sleeping with the fishes. He was a good swimmer so up till now drowning wasn't something he'd considered.

The image of Gibbs and Maddie lying lifeless on the pier sprang unwelcome into his mind. Gibbs had looked pale but peaceful before he'd thankfully drawn a shuddering breath and returned to the living. He'd always meant to ask him what it felt like to die. To see what lay beyond…His own lungs had been burning by the time he'd gotten them both out. He didn't want to die that way. He didn't want to die at all.

Tony was roused from his morbid thoughts when suddenly he felt his hands go free. Sensing this was his last chance to escape he lunged forward ready to run, but with his strength gone and his legs turned to Jell-O, he slammed into the concrete floor head first. The last thing he heard was Rocky screaming at him as he raised his foot...

A sharp pain speared through his skull and the world went from grey to black.

ooooOoooo

It was nearly nineteen-hundred hours. With Tony still missing no one was hungry, but Tim looked paler than usual and when he checked his watch Gibbs realized neither of them had eaten since breakfast.

The light was failing, and with reluctance he knew it would soon be time to call off the search for the night. Common sense said he should take a shower, grab something to eat and get some sleep. In reality he would go back to the Navy Yard and shower there before resuming his search for leads. It was nearly twenty-four hours since he'd last spoken to Tony. What the hell had happened to him?

Ziva would never admit it but her pinched face and dark shadows did the talking for her. They were all exhausted, all suffering under the strain. Though none of them wanted to stop, it was time for a break.

McGee stared at him, and Ziva's expression was less forgiving as he pulled out his cell and sent the other agents home. Before she got a chance to vent, he put up his hand. "Look around – it's getting dark. There's nothing more we can do here tonight. Go home. I need both of you rested so we can start over in the morning."

"You will not do that so why should we. Tony is part of our team. He would not stop looking if one of us were missing." Ziva went to stand by McGee. Neither made a move to leave.

Gibbs didn't know whether to head slap them, or ruffle their hair. He was beat, too tired to get into a heated discussion, besides Ziva had a point. He was being a hypocrite. Before the tense stand off got into a full blown argument he decided on a plan B. If he couldn't get them to go home, he was going to make sure they got something to eat. There was a small restaurant on the opposite side of the road. Gibbs didn't know how he was going to force something down, but at least he could get his coffee fix. The heat and the strong smell of garlic hit him as soon as he walked in. He left McGee and Ziva to look at the take-out menu while he went over to the small bar area.

The young waitress was pouring out drinks but looked up and smiled when he approached. "Can I help you?"

She had a pretty smile, and despite the day he was having he responded in kind. "Yeah…we'd like something to go. If I don't get a coffee soon…"

"You sound just like my father," she laughed, "if you don't mind waiting until I serve this," she nodded to the tray of drinks in front of her, "I will be happy to take your order."

Despite himself he watched with amusement as she flirted with the four frat boys at the table with an ease that would put DiNozzo to shame. With her dark eyes and shiny hair, he reckoned she was Italian. Added to her previous comment, he also guessed she was the owner's daughter.

Moving back behind the counter she wiped her hands on the dishcloth attached to the apron around her narrow waist. "What would you like? We have two blends - smooth or rich. Do you want it black, or would you prefer a cappuccino or a latte?"

He made a face at the last two options. "Rich and dark."

As the girl got to work making his coffee he pulled out Tony's picture. "We're looking for this man. Have you seen him?"

The girl snapped the plastic top on the cup before giving the photo her full attention. "That's Tony. He came in here for a meal last night. He was nice." The smile vanished, replaced by worry. "Is he okay?"

Finally he'd got something. He resisted the urge to hug her. "He's gone missing. I'm trying to retrace his steps."

From the frown he could tell she was concentrating. This was a busy restaurant and even with someone like Tony it was a big ask for her to remember everything.

"It was the first time he'd been here. Like I said before he was a really nice guy, but he looked tired …I saw him take a call. He didn't say who it was but from the expression on his face I guessed it was his dad. Anyway, it wasn't long after that he left. I remember it was just before eight pm as we were due a large group coming in for a birthday party."

"Did he speak to anyone else?"

"Carla…you should have called me." A man of medium build with dark hair sprinkled with silver, appeared from the back. From his commanding presence and the resemblance to the girl in front of him, he didn't need to be told this guy was the owner. "How may I help you, Officer?"

Gibbs handed over his ID. It was studied with care before the dark eyes looked up to meet his. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs with NCIS – Naval intelligence. One of my men has gone missing. Your daughter has just told me he dined here last night. I'd like a look at your register."

He didn't say please, and there was an uneasy pause before the man motioned to his daughter to hand over Tony's picture.

"_Ahh_…the policeman, or as I now know NCIS." He said wearing a tight smile. "Your officer was getting a little too friendly with my daughter so I went over to speak to him." Carla blushed drawing her father daggers, but he ignored her discomfort. "I found him very polite…very respectful. He understood the concerns of a father with a beautiful daughter and left without being asked. I'm sorry to hear he's gone missing and will be happy to do whatever I can to help." He clicked his fingers. "Carla, give Special Agent Gibbs the register."

Apart from the booking at eight o'clock there were no other entries. Gibbs raised an eyebrow but the man merely shrugged. "On weeknights most of our business comes from passing trade. There were only few diners when your officer was in. One couple are regulars, so I can give you their address. The others, if they paid by charge I will give you their details, however our menu is reasonable so most pay with cash."

Ziva and McGee appeared at his shoulder. They'd been listening to the conversation. All thought of food, gone.

"I will stay here to get the information." Ziva volunteered and followed the owner into the office situated at the rear of the building.

"McGee…you're with me. Tony must have parked close by…"

It had gone dark during the time they'd been inside. The street light gave some illumination, but even with their flash-lights it was hard to make out shape from shadow. Just when he thought they'd need to come back tomorrow, Tim raised his hand. "I think I've found Tony's cell."

Gibbs stormed over. "Whadda yah mean - think!"

"It's broken, Boss, but provided the SIM's okay I'll be able to confirm it."

As the moments ticked by Gibbs glared at him. "I'm waiting, McGee…"

Tim looked up wide-eyed. Even in the dark he could tell his probie had gone a shade whiter. McGee handed over the cell and he saw why. It was splattered with blood.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Gibbs has finally got a clue! But can he put the pieces together in time?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review. Your feedback makes my day!

And to all my American readers - happy 4th July for tomorrow! Have a great day everyone. The 4th is also my brother's birthday, so happy birthday bro!


	4. Chapter 4

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 4**

It was past midnight before they'd finished. Every piece of trash was bagged and tagged. Fingerprints had been lifted from every viable surface, and statements taken from the restaurant owner and his daughter.

Gibbs sensed the guy was holding back something. What, he didn't know. His gut was telling him whatever had happened to Tony, originated here. It wasn't that DiNozzo didn't have enemies. In law enforcement that came with the territory. But no one knew he was leaving early, let alone he'd end up eating out. Not even Tony himself.

It was too late to contact the other diners who'd been there that night, but he hadn't hesitated calling someone who not only didn't mind, she'd have been cross if he'd kept her out the loop – Abby.

McGee and Ziva were still hanging around when he walked into the bullpen. One of their team was missing and they were worried. He got that. But a tired agent was a danger to others as well as themselves. They wouldn't be worth a dime if they didn't get some rest. He fixed them both with a glare. "I told you to go home. If you're still here when I get back, you're both on report."

Ziva's eyes flashed with fire and her mouth drew into a thin, tight line. McGee looked hurt. He ignored the black looks. This wasn't a popularity contest. It was his job to keep his agents safe and if that meant reeling them in for their own good, he was fine with that.

With an extra-large Caf-Pow in his hand he walked into the lab. "What have you got for me, Abs?"

"Gibbs!" Abby was a lightweight but the drink nearly spilled, and he rocked on his heels as she flew into his arms, her eyes bright with tears.

For a long moment they just stood there in silence while he held her close and rubbed small circles on her back. Of all his team Abby was the most emotional. Underneath all the Goth trappings she was a sweet kid. Wore her heart on her sleeve and wasn't afraid to express how she felt. Sometimes he envied her, but he'd cried all his tears long ago. It had taken a long time to build up a wall to face the world, now there was no going back. Emotion wasn't a weakness, but it was a luxury he couldn't afford. He also didn't have the luxury of time. He needed Abby on her game and he needed it now.

He whispered in her ear. "Abs…I need your help to find Tony." The quiet entreaty worked as he thought it would. He felt her tight grasp release and she pulled away. Mascara was running down her cheeks and he gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Her hand shook slightly when she picked up the broken cell, but in an instant the shakes were gone and the talented forensic scientist he relied upon was back. "The SIM was broken, but I managed to get enough trace to confirm this is Tony's phone." There was a slight hesitation while she took a steadying breath. "The blood is Tony's too…He didn't even get a chance to call 911, Gibbs," Sadly he watched her resolve weaken as her voice started wavering again. "You have to find him."

He put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "That's the plan, Abs…What else do you have?"

"I've started working on the fingerprints, but so far there's been nothing on AFIS." She glanced over at the mass of evidence bags piled up waiting to be dealt with. "It's going to be a while before I get the DNA results."

He handed her the Caf-Pow and kissed the top of her head. "Just do your best. If anyone can do it, you can."

Abby's cheeks hollowed and her lips pursed as she took a long sip of her drink. When she rose for air, she pulled at his sleeve and with grim determination led him towards the door. "Thanks for the drink but you need to go – I've got work to do."

Despite himself he smiled. It faded when he was alone in the corridor. It was official now, Tony was hurt. But hurt didn't mean dead, besides he would know if he'd been killed. At least he hoped he would. His gut didn't usually lie…

ooooOoooo

"Really, Jethro, I don't mind you spending the night sleeping in my chair. I don't even object to you helping yourself to my single malt. I _do_ however have serious concerns about your reckless disregard to your health. I know you feel responsible for the people in your charge, but I am _quite_ certain Tony would not want you running yourself into the ground like this."

"I'm fine…"

Gibbs grimaced as he unfurled his body from Ducky's chair. He'd gone into autopsy because he knew where the ME kept his stash. The last thing he'd expected was to fall asleep. A glance at the bottle of Talisker told him he owed his old friend a replacement. Ducky continued to look pissed. His brief answer didn't satisfy the eagle-eyed doc. Then again, he hadn't expected it to.

"No…you're not." Ducky said simply in a low voice. "I know you, Jethro. I know you better than anyone. I remember how long you mourned for Kate, and you've known Tony a lot longer. I won't tell you not to worry, we are all worried about him, but as your friend and a doctor I must tell you to stop being so hard on yourself."

There was a crick in his neck after lying in an awkward position for so long, but with Ducky watching his every move he resisted the impulse to ease out the kinks.

"Like I said before…I'm _**fine.**_" As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted the abrupt outburst. No one deserved the backlash of his frustration, least of all Ducky. Gibbs counted inwardly to ten, let out a long sigh and softened his expression. "Look, you know I can't let up until I find him…If the situation were reversed, Tony would do the same for me."

Ducky shrugged then glanced at the half empty bottle on the desk. "In that case I had better get re-stocked."

"Hell no…I owe -"

The ME stared at him through the spectacles perched at the edge of his nose. "No, on this matter I _insist,_ Jethro. The only thing I would ask is next time you decide to drink my malt - call me. I may not be able to help you find him, but I dislike being kept in the dark. If nothing else," the blue eyes glinted, "I could have helped you finish the bottle."

Gibbs drew a hand over his face and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Sorry, Duck, I didn't see the point of waking everyone up."

"I don't appreciate being kept in the dark either, Gibbs."

Both men turned to see Vance standing by the door. Sometimes it was hard to read his expression. This time, it was a no brainer. From the evil eye he was giving him, Vance wasn't a happy man.

Gibbs shrugged. "I'll bear that in mind."

Vance shook his head. Even from the doorway Gibbs saw his jaw clamp down harder round his tooth pick. He wondered how many he snapped in a day. The director moved in closer and his nose wrinkled. "You look like crap, Gibbs. Get a shower before you come to my office."

The director turned on his heel and walked away. Gibbs waited until the door closed before he made a move to follow him. Ducky forestalled him as he started to leave. "It isn't wise to rile him, Jethro. In any event I believe that in his own way the director just wants to help."

"Yeah, I know. I just…" Gibbs lapsed into silence as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to ease the pain blooming behind his eyes.

"Hoped you would have found Tony by now…" Ducky finished the sentence for him. The ME patted his arm. "You will. I've never known you to fail yet." Ducky reached into his pocket, pulled out a package of Tylenol and laid it on his palm. "If nothing else at least I can help you with your headache." He smiled sadly.

"You've done a lot more than that. Thanks for the pep talk, Duck…and I _will _replace that bottle."

Ducky raised his eyebrows, and slowly shook his head. "If you must and, Jethro…remember I'm here if you want to talk."

The fierce, stinging spray washed away the last of the cobwebs. With a fresh shirt and a strong cup of coffee he felt almost human as he made his way to meet Vance. Ziva and McGee were already at their desks as he passed. It was early and they looked tired, but at least they'd had a few hours away from the squad room. He stopped briefly but a shake of McGee's head and Ziva's fixed expression told him they had no hits to the APB, so he quickly made his way up the stairs. He gave the door one brief knock but didn't wait for an invitation as he made his way inside. Leon was leaning back against his chair. Sitting opposite was a face he knew only too well. Tobias Fornell.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was coming. He immediately went on the offensive. "DiNozzo is one of mine. I'm _not _handing over his case to the FBI."

Tobias gave him a sympathetic look as he rose to his feet. "DiNozzo's been missing well past the twenty-four hour window, Gibbs. While I would be the last one to question your team's ability, the FBI has more resources to deal with missing person cases."

"_Leon_…"

Vance fixed him with a steady gaze. "You're too close to this, Gibbs. The FBI is geared for this kind of investigation, besides…I have another case for you."

"I already have a case…_Director_." He muttered through gritted teeth.

Vance didn't flinch under his glare. "Not anymore. A marine has been found dead in a warehouse by the docks. I understand you're worried about DiNozzo. So am I. But as Director of NCIS I need my senior agent to do his job – are we _clear_?"

Furious, he was on the verge of telling Vance where to stick it when Fornell raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the door. Gibbs recognized the signal. Still angry, he snatched the file from the desk shunning Vance as he stormed out.

He was still fuming when they reached the lift. He barely gave Fornell time to get inside before he slammed the stop button. "If you seriously think I'm handing this over to you…"

Fornell folded his arms. "That ship has sailed, Jethro…But, as your team has already started the investigation _and_ Abby is the best in the business, I reckon it makes sense to work together on this one."

Tobias had thrown him a lifeline and relieved, he felt some of the tension leave his body. "Fine…"

The FBI man accepted the only thanks he was going to get with a lopsided smile. "Now, let's figure how we're going to do this while keeping _both_ our directors off our backs."

ooooOoooo

He was still pissed with Vance, but Gibbs pushed his resentment to the side the moment he arrived at the warehouse. He'd left McGee to bring Tobias up to speed, trusting Tim to keep him in the loop. All the same, he was desperate to get back.

On first impressions that wasn't going to be anytime soon. From the way the deceased was laying it was clear he'd been killed execution style. However, the pool of blood surrounding his head wasn't the only one at the scene.

There was a dark red stain on the ground under one of the beams. By its side was a length of rope. It also was stained with blood and engrained with what appeared to be flakes of torn skin. He shared a look with Ziva. No words were spoken but both of them knew. Someone had been tortured.

The dead man was dressed in civvies. The only reason why the dockworker who'd found the body notified NCIS, was on the strength of the regulation hair cut. Gibbs carefully searched the body until he found the guy's wallet. The photo ID matched the corpse - Captain Paul Brownlee.

It was the second time he'd heard that name in twenty-fours, and he didn't believe in coincidence. If he was right, this was the friend who'd helped out Lt Williams. At the time they'd been something about his story that didn't ring true. Once he got back to the Navy Yard he intended having another word with the new father.

Ducky arrived with Palmer by his side. The ME strode towards him with the energy of a man half his age. It was hard to believe that not so long ago his friend had nearly died of a heart attack.

"Well, well…What do we have here?" He'd watched Ducky scan the scene as he'd walked in. From his raised eyebrow, the ME had reached the same conclusion. The older man grunted as he knelt by the body. "Our marine was killed, close range, by a shot to the head. If Anthony was here I have absolutely no doubt he would make some reference to The Godfather." The comment was made with a sad voice. No one said a word - it was true.

Next he inserted a probe, tutting as he pulled it out only moments later. "Time of death, no more than a couple of hours." Ducky shivered and glanced towards the door. "However...with the draft blowing in and cooling the body, it could have been sightly less."

"Was he tortured?"

The ME lifted one wrist and then the other before shaking his head. "This man was not the one restrained to that beam," His expression grew angry at the sight of the bloody rope Ziva was putting into an evidence bag. "That poor unfortunate would have deep ligature marks around his wrists." Ducky carried out a cursory check of the body. "Apart from the bullet wound, the only other damage I can detect at the moment is to his knuckles. That would suggest he has either been in a brawl, or…"

"Captain Brownlee was the one who committed the torture." Ziva finished. She held up a thick leather belt. The buckle was covered in dried blood.

"Our victim's belt is missing," Ducky confirmed with an edge in his voice, "Of course, it is possible he may not have worn one, many men don't these days. We cannot assume anything until I have carried out a full autopsy, none the less, I would suggest that our torture victim wouldn't have been able to go too far. If the dried blood is an indication of the abuse inflicted, he…or she…will have sustained significant injuries."

He and Ziva didn't need it spelt out, but Palmer looked at his boss, puzzled. "What kind of injuries, Doctor Mallard?"

"Lacerations, Mr Palmer…From the blood encrusted on the belt Ziva found, I'm afraid the poor soul tied to that beam was subjected to a sound whipping."

Jimmy flinched, his face turning a shade whiter as he went quiet.

As Ziva continued taking pictures of the evidence, he punched McGee's number into his cell. He wasn't about to pull him off Tony's case, wild horses couldn't do that, but multitasking was Tim's speciality. A few calls to the local PD and local hospitals wouldn't throw him off his stride.

"Gibbs…"

He turned round to acknowledge Ziva as he finished his call. She'd gone pale, but the knuckles on her hand glowed white through the latex glove as she held up a ripped, blood stained blue striped shirt. "I think…no…I am positive this is the shirt Tony was wearing when he left the office."

His heart skipped a beat then starting racing as he made up the short distance between them. Wordlessly he took it from her and quickly examined it. "It looks similar. How can you be so sure?"

"Vance's secretary admired it…I heard him saying it was an Armani."

Gibbs followed her eyes to the label, and his mouth went dry. He wanted to tell her that despite the price tag, the shirt wasn't that uncommon. He couldn't. Ziva didn't believe in coincidences any more than he did. Nevertheless, he wasn't ready to give up hope yet. Besides, why would someone want to torture Tony?

"Bag it, and get it back to Abby straight away. Tell her to drop whatever she's doing. We need a DNA on that shirt."

He spat out the order uncaring it sounded more abrupt than he'd intended. Ziva didn't seem to mind, merely nodding as she put the shirt in the evidence bag.

He pulled out his cell again. "McGee…I need you down here to work the scene. Is Fornell with you?"

"_Yes, Boss_."

"Put him on."

There was a slight pause as the phone was handed over. "_What is it, Gibbs?" _

"Get down here…I'm pretty sure I know what happened to Tony."

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Surprised?

I've left you with a lot of questions, top of the list - where's Tony?

Thanks again to all the kind folks who left reviews! Your feedback really means a lot so please, keep them coming! I'd especially like to hear your thoughts on what happened in that warehouse...


	5. Chapter 5

**Many thanks again to all who reviewed! Your feedback means a lot and I really appreciate the support.**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 5**

Voices, indistinct and muted filtered into his consciousness as if through a fog. One was crying, pleading for his life – Rocky. He didn't recognize the other man's, but it was firm, uncompressing his dialogue brief. Then came a single gun shot and Rocky went silent…

He kept his eyes closed but his heart was hammering as the heavy footsteps came towards him. They stopped within a hair's breath of his chest. He waited for the end. It didn't come. His fuzzy brain was pounding, the blood roaring through his ears so loud he was sure he could hear him, knew he was still alive. Then suddenly without a word being spoken, the killer walked away. He kept still, not moving a muscle until the footfall receded into the distance. Only then did he dare a glance.

The man was making for the door so he couldn't see his face. In the dim light he appeared fair-haired, tall, as for the rest what he saw made no sense. His shoes were high end expensive Italian leather, out of sync with the uniform he was wearing – police. Distant memories of another man wearing a similar uniform flitted across his mind. That guy was sharing a joke with the other men in the precinct, showing off his shiny new detectives shield. He was sure that young cop wouldn't have murdered someone in cold blood. What was the deal here?

The room was spinning, and his stomach lurched as he struggled onto his side. With the pounding in his head he knew the nausea wasn't going to go away any time soon, but he had to. With sheer force of will he pushed himself upright…

His breath hitched and he choked back a scream as raw, fiery pain rippled across his back. The excruciating waves seemed to go on forever as he lay there trembling, panting through the worst of it, struggling to get a grip as he tried not to pass out. Darkness wavered but he pushed it back, knowing he couldn't stay there. Knowing he needed to get away in case his _friendly_ neighborhood cop changed his mind and came back to finish the job.

He waited for the pain to let up. It didn't. At least not much. When the raging fire eased down to intermittent stabs of intense burning he guessed that was as good as it was going to get. He swore through gritted teeth as he forced himself the rest of the way up.

His chest felt heavy and there was a sharp stinging pain every time he took a shallow breath. Cracked ribs, maybe broken, but hardly a surprise after the beating he'd taken. Rocky lay slumped on his side with blood pouring from a hole in his skull. He wasn't sorry. Part of him wanted to shake the killer's hand - then again, maybe not. Somehow he didn't think the guy would _appreciate _a witness. What the hell was he going to do? If you couldn't trust a cop, who could you trust?

Sweat rolled down his face and his muscles quivered as he slowly dragged himself onto his feet. He staggered, his vision blurring as every part of his body screamed in protest but he waited, and waited, until he was able to tolerate the pain and he was reasonably confident his trembling legs wouldn't crumple beneath him.

When he'd lost his shoes he didn't know, but his feet were cold. If he had to he would manage without them, but without some protection the skin on his soles would soon be torn to shreds once he went outside. He spotted them lying by the side, at least he thought they were his. It was a relief when they fitted and he was thankful they were loafers. Even the idea of trying to bend down filled him with dread. Besides, he was pretty sure if he fell there would be no getting back up again.

He was naked to the waist and already shivering, knew he wouldn't last long without a jacket. He couldn't remember much of anything, even what he'd been wearing, but the short black coat discarded in the corner looked about the right size.

Putting it on was something else. The material was heavy, good for keeping out the cold but bad when your back was cut to ribbons and every move was agony. The nausea spiked again, but he held it back and kept it together as he shoved his swollen hand through the sleeve and in one quick, excruciating movement forced the coat all the way on. He heard a scream. Vaguely realized it came from him. His eyes were squeezed shut but when they opened again he was trembling, tears rolling down his face.

It seemed to take forever as he staggered, stumbling out the warehouse into the rain. Big fat drops that immediately soaked his hair making him shiver. When he'd been abducted it was dark out. Now despite the grey clouds scudding by, it was daylight. His watch was long gone and with no idea of the time he wondered how long he'd been there. How long he'd been tortured.

At the sound of an approaching car he froze, for a moment unsure what to do. He wasn't a coward but knew when to choose his battles. If Rocky's killer returned he was in no shape to mount a defence. At the last minute he made for one of the large containers stacked around the dock. One of them was open but for some weird reason it gave him the creeps and he resisted the temptation to go inside out of the rain. Images of a dark-haired woman and money, lots and lots of money, flitted into his brain. It disappeared as a kaleidoscope of colors assaulted his retinas and a sharp, slick pain exploded in his skull…

It was the rain seeping through his pants that made him aware he'd fallen to his knees, his aching head supported by his hands. When his vision cleared he saw a black car parked outside the warehouse. It looked official and he needed help, but couldn't risk reaching out to anyone, at least not until he got his head straight and knew who he could trust.

Where he was going, he didn't know. Then it came to him, the dull hollow ache in his gut palpable as he stopped and stared into the distance. He couldn't remember anything. Not even his name.

ooooOoooo

His coffee had turned cold but Gibbs downed the bitter dregs without a flinch, crumpled the cup and threw it into the trash with such force the container rattled. Ziva and McGee glanced over, but he ignored their look of concern. He didn't need anyone to tell him he needed a break. He'd been running on coffee and adrenaline since Tony disappeared. But he wasn't going to let up. How could he when Tony was out there somewhere, needing help?

"Have you found Lt Williams yet?"

"Nothing yet, Boss. Last anyone saw of him was when he left the hospital after his wife gave birth. He's officially on paternity leave so his CO wasn't expecting him in today."

"Well, McGee…what are you waiting for? Go bring him in."

"Leaving now, Boss." Tim flushed slightly as he hurriedly grabbed his gun and badge out the drawer.

"Where's Fornell?" Gibbs eyes darted around looking for his FBI counterpart.

"He took a call a few minutes ago and left. He did not say where he was going." Ziva told him as she prepared to accompany McGee.

"Didn't you _think_ to ask?" Gibbs demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ziva's eyes glittered with suppressed anger. "Of _course_ we did. All he said was he would be in touch. What would you like me to do, Gibbs? Will I stay here and find out what Agent Fornell is doing…_or _would you prefer me to go with McGee?"

Ziva was calling him out, but he was in no mood to play nice today. He didn't verbalize a reply, but a curt nod towards McGee sent them both heading to the lift.

It still grated that the FBI had the lead on the case and now with Fornell doing a disappearing act, he was pissed. Gibbs stormed out the building but the fresh air didn't clear his head or improve his temper. He only stayed out long to snag a fresh coffee and a Caf-Pow before heading back inside. He wanted an update from Abby, but most of all he needed an answer to the question that had been preying on his mind since he entered the warehouse.

"Jethro…I've been expecting you." Ducky made the greeting without looking round as he heard the door swish open.

Brownlee's light tan almost disguised his deathly palor. If it wasn't for the 'Y' incision and the hole in his skull anyone might have thought the guy was catching forty. The only other marks to indicate his violent demise were on his hands. His knuckles were bruised and swollen. After what he'd seen in the warehouse plus the lack of bruising on the body, Gibbs doubted they were defensive wounds.

He still hadn't got confirmation that the torn shirt and the blood on the rope belonged to DiNozzo, but his gut told him Tony had been through hell in that warehouse. It also told him that the man lying on Ducky's slab was responsible.

His jaw tightened and he wanted to hit something. Brownlee was dead. There was nothing he could do to the bastard now. All he could do was get answers. Brownlee deserved what he'd got, Tony didn't. What the hell had happened in that warehouse? And who'd shot Brownlee? But most important where was his missing agent and was Tony still alive?

"Jethro?"

The pair of blue wrinkled eyes looked slightly smaller through the visor, but the question they held was unmistakable. Was he okay? Gibbs realized he'd zoned out. "Sorry, Duck, got a lot on my mind. What have you got for me?"

"The answer to your unspoken question…" The ME handed over a small glass jar containing the spent bullet he'd removed from the deceased. "It's a 9mm."

His stomach lurched, but Ducky caught his expression and gave him a comforting smile.

"You will of course need confirmation from Abigail however…I very much doubt this came from Tony's gun." He then tilted the victim's head round to the side. "With the amount of blood and resultant trauma I wasn't able to distinguish this in the warehouse, but as you can clearly see from the post mortem bruising the shot was delivered at close range using a silencer."

"It was a professional hit." Gibbs let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He wouldn't have blamed Tony if he'd killed the guy who'd tortured him. However, a kill shot delivered like that would have been harder to justify.

Ducky lifted off his visor and peeled off his gloves. "I'm afraid I've given you more questions than answers, Jethro. Is there _any_ news at all?"

Gibbs frowned. "No…A search of the area revealed nothing. We alerted the local hospitals, but so far none have reported anyone with that type of injury." He took a sip of coffee surprised to find it had cooled already.

"Of course, the rain will not have helped. Any evidence of a blood trail would have been washed away." Ducky let out a long sigh. "Anyway…I have no doubt Abby will have more answers for you."

"I sure hope so…"

When he walked into the lab, he was greeted by silence. The loud noise Abby insisted was music was uncharacteristically absent. He was beginning to think she wasn't there when he noticed her sitting, unmoving, at her desk. In her hands was the shirt they'd found at the scene.

"You okay, Abs?"

"It's Tony's shirt, Gibbs…I didn't need to test for DNA – I recognized his aftershave." She scrunched it, holding it against her chest. "Of course I did the test because that's my job, besides I really, _really_ hoped I was wrong. But I wasn't…The blood on the rope was his too." A large tear rolled down her cheek. "Why, Gibbs? Why would someone do this to Tony?" She finished the sentence in a sob and started crying in earnest. Gibbs opened his arms and she flew into them.

"I don't know, Abs…but I intend to find out."

The results were what he'd expected, but not what he'd wanted to hear. Deep in his soul something old and dark cracked and broke. Rage, fear, anxiety and guilt threatened to overwhelm him as dread expanded in his chest tightening his throat. His gut told him Tony was still alive, but where and for how long? When they found him, and he prayed that would be soon, there would be more than his physical wounds to heal.

Torture changed a man. The vicious, unrelenting abuse ripped more than their body apart. He'd seen it too many times. Witnessed good men turned into a shadow of their former selves, many never recovering from the sadistic cruelty they'd suffered. He'd failed to save him. Failed to protect one of his own. He felt sick to his stomach.

When the sobs turned to silent tears he gently kissed the top of her head. "I need to know what else you found, Abby."

She withdrew from his embrace and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Wordlessly Abby moved into the body of the lab and took up her usual position in front of the computer. "I didn't get much from the fingerprints taken outside the restaurant…they were either smudged or weren't on the database, but I did get a viable thumbprint from the streetlight. It's someone you already know – Lt Simon Williams."

His hands balled into fists by his side. Sometimes he hated being right. It ate him up to think the new father was involved but the more he found out, the more he knew his initial feeling about the guy had been right. Williams was no good.

He wondered if McGee and Ziva had found him yet. He pulled out his cell to call, but it rang before he got a chance to dial in the number. Fornell's name was on the caller display.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"_Jethro_…"

"It's bad enough you get the lead in _my _case about one of _my_ agents, but to take off and not say where you're damn well going!" Gibbs waited for Tobias to snark back. Instead of the retaliation he expected, there was silence followed by a long sigh. His heart sank and the hairs on his neck stood on end. "What is it?"

"_We found DiNozzo's car -_"

"Where did you find it?" He asked impatiently, not giving Fornell time to finish.

"_We got a hit off one of DiNozzo's credit cards. I hoped to bring your boy home, but…it only led to a bum who found his wallet."_

His mouth went dry, and his heart started racing. "Damn you, Tobias – spit it out!"

_"I agreed not to press charges if he showed us where he found it. Jethro, I'm sorry…We've just dragged Tony's car out the Potomac."_

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	6. Chapter 6

**A HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed! I am thrilled so many of you took the time to share your thoughts with me. You really made my day!**

**I did tell you this story was a mystery, but some answers are about to follow...**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 6**

"Look, man, I don't give a shit about you paying the wrong fare but this is the end of the line - get off the bus!"

Patience wasn't his strong point, and Mal didn't normally waste time dealing with trouble makers or stragglers, but there was something about the man slumped against the window that made him hold back.

It wasn't the swollen eye or heavy bruising on his face. Many of his passengers stumbled on badly beaten. Usually drunks or junkies, their bodies were ravaged by self-abuse or suffering the consequences from a lifestyle that often led to physical violence. They reeked of cheap beer and vomit, the stench lingering long after they'd staggered off for their next fix. This guy didn't smell sweet either, but he very much doubted the dried blood staining his rumpled clothing was his fault. He was in trouble.

The guy stirred sending his straight, brown hair over the large bruise on his forehead. His expression puzzled as he looked around, dazed. "Where am I?"

"Fairfax County. Are you okay, man? C'ause you sure don't look it." Mal's obligation to his passengers ended when they reached their destination. Why he was bothering with this guy, he didn't know.

"I…I just need somewhere to clean up."

As the stranger began to rise he lurched sideways. Mal grabbed him before he joined the trash littering the floor. When his hand came away covered in blood, his suspicions were confirmed. Something was very wrong.

The man didn't cry out but his face was creased in pain and he flinched, pulling back from his touch. The seat he'd been occupying was red and sticky. The back of his black jacket caked in dried and still seeping blood from unseen wounds that lay beneath. There was no such thing as an ex-marine. Mal no longer fought for his country but his instincts were as sharp as ever. The atrocities he'd witnessed during combat, ingrained in his memory. He couldn't forget them. Hell knows he'd tried. He knew what had happened to this man. The question was why, and who the fucker was who'd yielded the whip.

"You need a hospital, my friend." Mal didn't want to hurt him but he couldn't let him leave like this. He reached out and gently latched hold of his arm as he tried to walk away.

The stranger was stronger than he looked. He pushed away from his grasp, his eyes darting wilding about, staring outside, straining to see beyond the shadows cast by the dim lights of the terminus building. "**No**…no hospitals. I...I have to keep moving."

Mal backed off slightly so as not to spook him. "Okay…how about I call someone else? They can come get you…make sure you get medical attention."

An anguished expression flew over the man's face, quickly replaced by confusion. "I don't…I can't remember…" The man stared at him but as he opened his mouth to say something else, his legs buckled and Mal caught him as he fell unconscious to the ground. This time he didn't hesitate pulling out his cell and dialling 911.

ooooOoooo

It was growing dark, but Gibbs would have recognized Tony's car anywhere.

None of them did the job for the money, but DiNozzo blew a large chunk of his salary on his car. The classic Lancia Stratos was his pride and joy. He would have been heartbroken to see the smashed windscreen and the red leather seats ruined by mud and grime. The silver-blue metallic paintwork already dull after being submerged. But regardless of how it would hurt, Gibbs wished Tony _was_ there to see it.

"We found these under the front seat." Fornell's expression darkened as he handed over Tony's gun and badge.

The badge was covered in mud. Gibbs wiped it away with his thumb and stowed it in his pocket. As he went to check the gun, Fornell spoke. "I've already checked. None of the bullets are missing. Abby will need to confirm it, but it doesn't look like it's been fired in the last few days."

Gibbs nodded then inclined his head towards the deep water beyond. A full moon cast a shimmering line across the surface. It's light bright enough to lift the darkness. Someone must have seen something.

Fornell followed his train of thought. "There's no sign of a body…but it's too dangerous to send out divers tonight."

"I know how it looks…but he's not dead, Tobias. I would know."

Fornell let out a long sigh. "I hope you're right, Jethro, I really do…but we can't dismiss the evidence because of your _gut_."

One of Fornell's men was standing next to a bum. The deep furrows in his forehead and the long, stringy hair salted with grey made him appear old, but Gibbs guessed the guy was closer to Tony's age. Whatever, living on the street did that to a man. "Is that the guy who used Tony's card."

Fornell nodded. "Yeah…he was trying to pay for groceries at a store a couple of blocks from here. I've already told him if he tells us what he knows we won't press charges." He gave his friend a small smile. "I thought_ you_ might want to do the interview."

On his way over his cell rang. "I hope you're calling to tell me you've got him."

There was a slight silence before Tim replied. "Sorry, Boss…Williams isn't at home. We've interviewed the neighbors, but none of them have seen him today."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks and pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain behind his eyes had just notched up. "Put out an APB."

"Already done, Boss."

"And call his commanding officer." Gibbs continued. "Tell him to get down to the Navy Yard - stat. I want to know all there is about Lt Simon Williams. Including what's _not_ on in his file." Gibbs snapped his cell shut terminated the call, ignoring McGee's stuttering comment about how late it was.

The agent guarding the bum nodded as he approached. Only walking away when he finally arrived. Gibbs spied the cuffs around the thin shaking hands. He knew the guy was restrained as per procedure but from his skinny frame and the dull, sunken brown eyes, the only one this man was a threat to was himself.

Gibbs saw the guy staring nervously at him and forced a smile on his face. "Hi…I'm Special Agent Gibbs…Mr?"

"John Cauldwell…just call me John. I haven't used my surname for a long time."

"Well, John. It's cold out, and I don't know about you but I need a coffee fix. Is there a diner near here?"

The man lifted his bound hands and pointed to a sign across the road. Gibbs called over to Fornell and stated his intention. The FBI man rolled his eyes and paused for a moment before throwing over the keys to the handcuffs.

If the waitress thought anything about the odd couple who slid into the end booth, her open smile gave nothing away. "What can I get for you guys?"

"Coffee…" Gibbs took the menu, glancing down the list of food on offer, "and I'll have a burger with fries."

John said nothing, hadn't even picked up the menu. Gibbs could see the guy was trying to suss him out. He couldn't blame him. He reckoned this man had suffered more than his fair share of knocks over the years and had every right to be suspicious. Thing was, with Tony missing he didn't have time to allay his fears. Gibbs made a decision hoping he wasn't a vegetarian…"He'll have the same."

"Why are you doing this?"

Gibbs took a sip of his brew and felt a little of the chill leave his body. "One of my team is missing. He's hurt, and…I'd like to believe someone out there will give him the help he needs." He pulled Tony's picture out his pocket and handed it over. John gave it a good look before slowly shaking his head.

It wasn't the answer he wanted but at least the guy started to relax, eating his fries with relish as soon as the meal was placed in front of him. Gibbs let him eat, but only picked at the food on his own plate. When the man finally started his tale, the confident tone took him by surprise.

"I fell asleep. When I woke up I knew I wouldn't have time to reach the shelter before it closed, so I spend the night huddled by the bushes. It was cold, too cold to turn back over but I was dozing when the two cars pulled up. People don't like bums, and as I didn't want to risk a beating I had just enough time to hide before the two men driving got out. A stocky guy with dark hair got out one of those four by fours. I think it was blue, but it could have been black…I didn't know the model. The other guy, the shorter of the two, got out of the fancy sports car. They argued for a while," John huffed, and gave Gibbs a wry smile, "I got the feeling the short guy wanted the car for himself...anyway they eventually pushed the car into the water and left." John looked him straight in the eyes. "If your friend was there, I didn't see him."

Gibbs pulled out his PDA and pulled up the pictures of Williams and Brownlee. "Do you recognize either of those men?"

John nodded. "Yeah…those were the two men I saw."

"Are you sure…" Gibbs eyed him suspiciously. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. I need the truth."

"I'm many things, Agent Gibbs…but a liar isn't one of them." John sounded indignant as he pushed his plate away. "It's them…They were nearly as close as you are now. I was hidden by the bushes but in any case people like me are invisible to most folks."

Gibbs swallowed the last of his coffee in one gulp and put down enough notes to pay the bill and leave a generous tip. "C'mon…I'll give you a lift to the shelter. They'll open up for me. "

"I would appreciate you putting in a good word. Since I quit the booze and became reliable, I get to have my own room. I'd sure hate to lose that." John smiled. "But after everything that's happened, I'd rather go for a walk…I like the city when everyone's asleep. It's nice. Kinda peaceful." John got to his feet. "Thanks for the meal. I hope you find your friend."

"Here's my card. If there's anything else you remember – give me a call." Gibbs discreetly slipped a twenty into his hand.

He could see John staring at the money and wondered how long it had been since anyone showed him any kindness. Color infused the gaunt face and Gibbs could tell John was going to say something. He forestalled him. "Thanks for the help, John."

A glimpse of another man, from another time was revealed as John stood up straight giving him a perfect salute. Gibbs watched him leave but instead of following, he went over to the counter and ordered a coffee to go. While he waited he wondered about the man who'd just walked out the door. From the moment they'd met he'd suspected John had once been in the forces, so what happened? Then he remembered his own dark days…

When his girls died he'd dived into a bottle. For a long time he'd been on the skids. If not for friends who wouldn't give up on him, Gibbs acknowledged his life could easily have gone the same way.

The waitress handed him his coffee but refused to take the money. "That tip more than covered it."

"Do you know that guy I was with?"

"Sorry…I'm afraid I don't. There's a shelter near here and we see a lot of people like him, but not many can afford to come in."

On impulse Gibbs took the remained of the notes from his wallet and handed them over. "Next time you see him…or anyone who looks like they could use a meal, invite them in."

Her eyes rounded with surprise. "Wow…Who will I say?"

Gibbs didn't answer. Her thanks went unheard as he headed out the door.

ooooOoooo

Doctors without Borders had been one of the most challenging but rewarding times during her career. Some of the horrific things she'd seen, the appalling injuries she'd treated, still haunted her to this day.

June didn't know what her patient had done to piss someone off, but whatever it was didn't warrant this. No one deserved to be tortured. No one_._ The paramedics had done a good job of stabilising him, but wisely they'd left his back alone. June directed the nurses to soak his coat before attempting to remove it. A good call as it turned out. When eventually it was able to be peeled away the sight that met her brought all the bad memories flooding back.

His skin was a weeping mess of raw, torn flesh and raised bleeding welts. Mary, the nurse assisting, went chalk white and swore under her breath. June didn't blame her. Without wasting another minute she cleaned up the ragged skin then stitched him up to the best of her ability. Despite her best efforts, some of the deeper lacerations would leave their mark. Eventually they would fade into fine silver lines, but she regretted they would always serve as a reminder of the abuse he'd suffered.

The man was black and blue. The heavy bruising littering his face and torso looked like a sick road map. There was no doubt it was very painful, but at least the x-ray revealed cracked, not broken ribs.

The purple swelling closing his right eye was nasty. But again things could have been a lot worse as a cursory exam revealed there was no permanent damage. June was confident once the puffiness went down he would regain his sight. The cuts on his face were mainly shallow. Only the one over his eye needed stitches. It would leave a small scar, but she could tell that under the swelling and bruises was a handsome guy. With a sad smile she guessed it wouldn't detract from his appeal. In fact, some women liked a little imperfection.

While his injuries looked horrific, they were largely cosmetic. His fractured fingers would mend without causing any problems. The significant head trauma was another matter. June was worried…

John Doe was found without any identification. Always a problem, but with head patients it was crucial. If they knew their name they could use it as a means to try and reach out to them. When the ambulance arrived on the scene, he was unconscious – hadn't woken since. Her shift was nearly over, but after what he'd suffered June didn't want him to wake up alone. Hospital chairs were bought for practicality not comfort still, it was good to take the weight off her aching feet after the long day she'd had.

The dark, brown hair flopping over his face looked almost black as it slicked against his sweat drenched skin. On impulse, she gently pushed it away from his eyes. Suddenly his body juddered, his eyes flew open and he flinched away her touch. Without warning his good arm grabbed her wrist with more strength than she expected from someone so ill.

June was a little un-nerved but it wasn't anything she hadn't experienced before. She kept calm, put her other hand on his wrist and gave it a squeeze. "You're in hospital – safe. My name is June Sheridan, I'm your doctor. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you…Now put your arm down before you dislodge those IVs. You lost a lot of blood and you need that transfusion."

The grip loosened, and as if it was too heavy to hold up, his arm fell by his side. "Sorry…" His weak, cracked voice came out almost as a whisper. She spooned an ice chip and offered it to him. He accepted it, nodding his thanks.

She took the cup away and gently fluffed his pillows, never losing eye contact. "What's your name? Is there anyone I can call for you?"

For a moment confusion and panic flashed across his face. It was only for a second, but June saw it.

"Steve…Steve McQueen."

June smiled. "So, was mom a movie buff?"

His bleary eyes seemed to go a shade darker. June suspected he was lying about his name, but her question had elicited a response of sorts. She wondered what it was. Emotion, or what she suspected, he was suffering memory loss.

When he didn't answer and his lids started to close, June didn't push. Steve, or whatever his name was had been through hell. The guy needed to rest and heal. It was up to the police to figure out what happened to him later.

A soft voice coming from the doorway grabbed her attention. "Doctor Sheridan…there's a police officer outside. He wants to speak to your patient."

"Thanks, Mary…Tell him I'll be out to see him directly."

June pulled up the bedding over his chest. The crisp white sheets a stark, cruel contrast against the purples, blues and dark reds covering nearly every inch of visible skin.

Someone somewhere would be missing this man, of that she had no doubt. She had patched up his wounds, but knew from experience dealing with the fallout of torture would be a much harder road to climb. June hoped that whoever his kin were, they were up to the task…

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.

A special thanks to a man we'll call 'M'. This man lives on the streets and the short passage about shelters comes from his own experience. From what my beta tells me, he is on the track to a better life. I wish him and the other invisible souls like him who wander our streets the very best - Joanie.


	7. Chapter 7

**END OF THE LINE**

**Chapter 7**

"Can you tell me where I can find Special Agent Gibbs? I'm Commander Ferris."

Ziva looked up with thinly veiled distain. She didn't like the man. His refusal to come out last night had displeased Gibbs. In turn Gibbs had washed the floor with McGee. She was with Tim while he'd made the call. He'd tried, but despite his best efforts the man's refusal had been not only curt but borderline abusive. Her team mate said nothing while being spat out, told her later it was just Gibbs' way and he wasn't bothered. She was, but the commander was here now and as an NCIS agent she was obliged to do her job.

Wearing a tight smile Ziva came round from her desk. "He is with the director at the moment but if you would accompany me, I will take you to the conference room to wait for him there."

They walked in silence, Ziva taking the opportunity to size him up. His sandy hair was short, but not the brutal cut worn by most of the marines she knew. The deep lines set into his brow and the wrinkles around his nose and mouth hinted he was mid-fifties, possibly around Gibbs' age. At least she thought so. The fact was no one knew what age he was.

She failed to understand why he kept it a secret. Americans. While she was proud to be a citizen she struggled with some US customs. They also smiled too much. Life in Israel was much more straightforward. People said what they thought and no offence was taken. Ziva disliked playing games. Nevertheless, she had learned to curb her tongue. Some of the time…

_Gibbs_. She was mad at him too. He was like a father to her, with Tony, McGee, Ducky, Abby, Jimmy and even Vance all part of his extended family. She understood he was worried, they all were. It did not justify venting his frustration on Tim.

Normally she would have offered their visitor hospitality, perhaps even stayed to make small talk until Gibbs came. Today she was only too pleased to get out of his sight. She was barely out the door when Gibbs arrived.

He raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere, Ziva?" Gibbs opened the door to the room she'd just vacated and extended his hand. "Ladies first."

Ferris was looking out the window. He spun round when they entered. "Is this going to take long? I'm already late for an important meeting."

Gibbs ignored the comment, took a seat and flipped open the file he'd laid on the desk. "Sit down, Commander."

Ferris glared, but Gibbs' expression gave nothing away as he waited patiently until the man finally did as he was asked. "Lt Williams is under your command."

It was a statement rather than a question, and Ferris nodded. "Yes he is. Is he the reason I'm here?"

"I believe he may be involved in the abduction and torture of an NCIS agent – Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Ziva put Tony's ID picture on the screen of her PDA and handed it over.

"Sorry, but I don't recognize him." He handed back her PDA, slowly shaking his head. "Abduction…torture…I'm aware Simon has a temper, but I wouldn't have believed him capable of anything like this. Are you sure he's involved?"

Gibbs didn't answer, simply pushing over a picture of Capt Brownlee.

"I know him...or I should say I know of him. He's a friend of Simon's. I've never met the man, but I've seen him hanging around the parking lot waiting for him after work."

"He was found murdered this morning."

"_What_! Do you think he's responsible for that too?"

"You tell me. We can't find him. Do you know anywhere else he would go?"

Ferris lapsed into stunned silence looking visibly shaken. "Not around here. His family live in LA, but as far as I know they aren't close. Anyway…his wife's just given birth, so I wouldn't imagine he would stray far from home right now."

"You said he had a temper." Ziva picked up on the throwaway comment.

"Yeah…Simon's always had a short fuse. Last year scuttlebutt got round he'd put his wife in the hospital, so I called him in. He denied it of course, but I made it clear what would happen if I heard she got so much as a paper cut in the future. When I heard she was pregnant I called round to see how things where. Marie's a sweet kid, too good for the likes of him. She was jumpy. Kept glancing at him before she said anything…as if she was looking for permission. Other than that she was okay. He tried to hide it, but it was pretty clear he wasn't pleased to see me. I think, hope, it got the message home. Some guys don't appreciate what they have."

Ziva silently agreed. In her opinion most men did not appreciate the women in their lives, but physical abuse was intolerable. She wanted to meet this Lt Williams. Hopefully in the interview room with the recording equipment switched off. "What position did Lt Williams hold?"

"It was his job to place the new recruits. When he first started in my section he was coasting, barely pulling his weight. Lately, he's been taking on the difficult cases. You know, square pegs in round holes. Anyway, I thought he was trying to get into my good books after the visit. Now, with what I've just heard, I'm not so sure."

Gibbs looked up. "I'd like to see those files. In fact every case he's worked on over the last six months."

"I'll make sure you get them by the end of the day."

As Gibbs closed the file Ferris got to his feet. "Just one more thing, Commander."

"Sure…what is it?"

"Why did you refuse to come out last night?"

He gave them both a wry smile. "I had a sick kid on my hands. Her mom's deployed overseas and with her child minder finished for the day it was left to yours truly to deal with her. Besides, do you know how late it was when your guy called me?"

"Yes, I do. He was following my orders. And for the record, Commander, _Special Agent_ McGee is a valuable member of my team. I understand your refusal to come out, but if you had stayed on the line long enough to answer some questions it would have helped. Hanging up not only wasted his time, it also hindered the search for my missing agent!"

Ferris' face was a picture. Ziva coughed to hold in the laughter.

"I'm sorry…If there's anything else I can do."

Gibbs grabbed the file and got to his feet in one fluid movement. "Just get me those files, and if Williams calls -"

"You'll be the first to know."

ooooOoooo

He woke with a start.

Heart thumping his eyes flew open, darting around the room. Someone was calling for Steve. Who the hell was that? Was he one of the guy's who'd tortured him? He wasn't hanging from the beam any more, Rocky had cut him down, but had the other guy returned? He wasn't a coward but he couldn't, wouldn't take any more...Gripped by panic his fight or flight response kicked in and he lashed out.

He yelped as a sharp, fiery pain ripped through his back, so fierce it took his breath away. Dark spots danced in front of his vision. They got bigger as his chest grew tighter, constricting his airways, squeezing his lungs until they couldn't pull in enough air…He was only vaguely aware of a mask being placed over his nose and mouth. The icy chill of narcotics seeping into his veins. It seemed like an eternity but as the pain started to ease, along came the realization he could breathe again. When the rest mist finally cleared his eyes rested on the concerned face of the doctor who'd admitted him. Damn. He'd freaked out again.

"You can let go now, Steve."

Confused, at first he'd forgotten the lame identity he'd given her, then he realized something else. He was gripping hold of her arm - again. "Sorry…I need to stop doing that."

He was embarrassed to see the impression of his fingers showed white on her skin, but she made no effort to rub them away. June was her name. He couldn't remember what came after, but then he couldn't remember much of anything. While she checked the machines around his bed he guessed she would probably never see fifty again. Still, her slim figure and pretty heart-shaped face would put women half her age to shame.

Her dark hair sparked a memory of another doctor. That woman was younger, her hair longer than the pixie cut favored by the older woman. He couldn't remember how they'd come to meet but she was beautiful, inside and out. Special. His heart ached reaching for the name that wouldn't come but one thing he was sure of. She'd loved him.

June checked his IV one more time and smiled. "No harm done. I've given you something to take the edge off so you should feel a little more comfortable."

He did. The pain was still there in the background but thankfully it was masked by the meds. "I am…thanks" he glanced at the crumpled blue shirt peeking up from under her white coat. "I'm no fashion guru but weren't you wearing that last night?"

June picked at the collar and her nose crinkled. "Yup…I need a shower. An RTA came in just after you fell asleep. By the time I was finished I didn't see the point in going home. Besides, you didn't give me your contact details."

For a split second he didn't know what to so say. He hoped his confusion didn't show in the short time it took him to come up with an answer. "If you show me where the payphone is, I'll give dad a call."

"Sorry, Steve, it's complete bed rest for you today. You've started a temp. That's not unusual given the trauma you suffered, but goodness knows how long you were running around with your back in that state. I cleaned it up, but there's a chance you might have already picked up an infection. As a precaution I've started you on broad spectrum antibiotics, in the meantime you're staying put." June rummaged in her coat pocket. "Here's my cell. Give your dad a call."

"Thanks."

June's expression grew serious. "The police want to speak to you. I put them off last night as you needed the rest, but you need to talk to them, Steve. You can't let the people who did this get away with it. They need to be brought to justice."

He agreed. Except right now he didn't know who he could trust. "Can I get something to eat first, and some coffee?"

"With a concussion like yours I'm surprised you feel like eating." June looked at him, puzzled, then shrugged. "Okay. I'll see about getting you some thin broth – but no coffee. I don't think your body would appreciate you throwing up at the moment."

Truth was even the thought of food made him want to barf. He'd only made the request to buy him a little more time. He forced a smile on his face. "Thanks, Doc."

"Steve…I know its going to be difficult but, you need to address what happened to you. I'm going off duty in a moment but if you want to talk, just get one of the nurses to call me. If not me, then someone. However, if you'd feel more comfortable speaking to a stranger I can put you in touch with a good -"

"I'd like to make my call now…"

June's expression didn't change as she ignored his rude interruption, tweaking his sheets before getting to her feet. "There's no hurry for the phone. One of the nurses will pick it up when you're done."

He felt like a heel for snapping at her. Deep down he knew she was probably right, but he wasn't ready. Didn't think he ever would be. Somehow he didn't think he was the kind of guy who felt comfortable with expressing his feelings. "June…thank you. You saved my life."

She smiled. "It was my job…but it was also my pleasure. Get some rest and I'll check in on you later."

He barely waited for the door to close before yanking out the IV. It stung, and drops of blood fell onto the sheets but he didn't have time to waste. He needed to leave before the cops stopped by.

The meds took the edge of the pain but they made his brain sluggish, his body lethargic. Even the simple act of swinging his rubber legs out of bed, took longer than he bargained.

On solid ground he staggered, dizzy for a second until his equilibrium kicked in. Reasonably confident he wasn't going to face plant on the floor he searched for his clothes. He found them easily enough, they were bundled in a plastic bag in the cabinet. Putting them on, was more problematic…

Aching and exhausted by the time he'd finished, going back to bed was a tempting proposition. It was also a risky one, so without wasting any more time he walked out the door, thankful there were no witnesses to his escape. Walking past the ER where he was brought in he pulled up the collar of his jacket and lengthened his stride. He needn't have bothered. Everyone was too busy to notice. Only when he reached outside and took a lungful of fresh air did he finally relax.

Where to go next was the problem. He pulled the cell from his pocket and wondered what he was going to do with it. It was pointless keeping it. He couldn't remember anyone to call besides, a geeky voice in his head told him it could be traced somehow.

Too dangerous to keep he laid it on the window sill, hoping it would be returned to its owner. He heard coins rattle in his pocket and pushed his good hand in as far as it would go. There was a few dollars and change. Enough for bus fare, maybe a little more. All he needed to get away. Find a place to lay low until his memory returned.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thank you so much for your continued support! I love reading your comments, and your theory's as to where the story is heading!

I aim to answer all those reviewers whose accounts allow a reply, but unfortunately the site doesn't permit a response to those who sign in as guests. However, if you haven't received a reply from me – please send me a PM. FF is a great source of stories however, sometimes the site can be problematic!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Many thanks to the kind souls who reviewed - it's appreciated!**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 8 **

"Commander Ferris sent over Williams' client list but if there is anything going on, it's not showing up in his financials." McGee clicked the controller and the suspect's bank statement came up on the flat screen. "There's only one bank account, shared with his wife, with the only source of income his Navy salary. Apart from that it's the usual stuff, but he did increase his life insurance recently."

"I suppose that is not unusual considering he was about to become a father." Ziva's comment belied the note of suspicion in her voice. Gibbs didn't buy it either. Something had spooked Williams. Question was what?

"I also put a trace on his cell, but he must have ditched it as I haven't been able to get a signal." Tim informed him, before moving swiftly on. "Anyway…according to the log, the last call was made to his boss. The time frame fits to when his son was born, so I'm guessing he was requesting paternity leave."

"Don't _guess_…ask." Gibbs said quietly, his eyes not leaving the screen. "Do we have someone watching the hospital? He might not be husband of the year, but…he'll be back to see his kid."

Ziva nodded. "Fornell has an agent staking out the hospital."

"Did I just hear my name mentioned?" Fornell drawled as he appeared at the edge of the bullpen, two coffees in hand. He gave one to Gibbs.

"Any news?" Gibbs asked, searching his friend's face for a tell.

"We found a body…but it wasn't DiNozzo."

Gibbs let out the breath he'd been holding and felt some of the tension leave his body. He was relieved, but mad at Tobias for not telling them first off. "_Well?_ You've got my attention…or do you want to waste time playing twenty questions?"

Fornell greeted the sarcasm with a tight smile. "It was the guy you've been looking for, Lt Williams. Odd, huh? His body's on his way to Ducky, but if you excuse the pun it's a no-brainer…a single gunshot to the head, just like Brownlee. We found him dumped in the same area where we found DiNozzo's car." Tobias took a sip of coffee before continuing. "One things for sure, someone didn't intend for him to be found. There were weights tied to his body. If we hadn't been searching the area…he might never have been discovered."

"Tony's alive!"

Abby ran towards them, grabbing Fornell in a hug so fierce he staggered back on his heels and nearly spilt his coffee.

The stunned FBI man was well out of his comfort zone, but Gibbs waited a full minute before responding to his wordless cry for help. "He didn't say that, Abs…"

Embarrassed, she quickly pulled out Fornell's grasp as if he were on fire, her cheeks still flushed when she turned round. "I know….but if he _was_ dead we would have found his body in the warehouse or in the car." She barely paused for breath as her hands waved wildly about. "_Look_…I know this whole thing sounds hinky…cause it absolutely makes _no_ sense that the men who took him have ended up dead, but Tony's alive. I can feel it - inside." She put both hands over her heart and the room went quiet.

"I agree…" Ziva broke the uneasy silence and came to stand beside the forensic scientist. "If he was dead, we would have found his body by now."

McGee nodded. "Yeah…I know it sounds crazy, but my gut's saying the same thing."

Tobias huffed and his lips twitched. "Wow…I'm impressed. Is that something you taught them? Or does everyone here follow their gut?"

Gibbs ignored the jibe. "I never thought he was dead, but where is he? Someone or something's happened to stop him contacting us. Well, any ideas?" His gaze took in everyone but landed on the forensic scientist. "Why _did_ you come up, Abby?"

When he confronted her she looked surprised at the question. Her face scrunched in concentration, it was obvious she'd forgotten. Suddenly her eyes went wide and her ponytails bounced around her shoulders as she jumped up and down. "I remember - it's good news! The bullet that killed Brownlee didn't come from Tony's gun. From the rifling it looks like it was fired from a Ruger. Bring me the weapon, and I'll give you chapter and verse."

"What do we have on Brownlee?"

They all watched as McGee put a new set of financials on the screen. "On the face of it there's nothing unusual apart from this…" Tim highlighted an entry on the row of figures. "He pays a monthly hire fee for a storage unit. Before you ask, I've contacted the company - the manager's expecting us."

"Good job, McGee."

Tim's face lit up at the praise but Gibbs pretended not to notice. "Gear up -"

"Gibbs…a minute."

He was still pissed at Vance and didn't welcome the interruption. Nevertheless, if he was going to have words, he wasn't going to do it in front of his team. "Go...I'll catch up."

"You might want to re-think that." Vance said with a glint in his eye and everyone turned to stare at him. "I've just had a call from Fairfax PD. A man was admitted to Inova hospital with suspicious injuries…By the time they went to interview him, he'd skipped."

"Did he give a name?" Gibbs asked with thinly veiled impatience, but Vance was clearly in no hurry.

"I was just waiting for you to ask. The name he gave ER staff was…Steve McQueen."

For the first time in days he smiled.

"That has to be Tony, Boss."

"It must be! Steve McQueen is his all time favorite!" Abby grinned, and went to hug Gibbs but suddenly aware Director Vance was standing beside him, she stopped in her tracks. "Um…I'd better get back to work, but you will…you know…call me?"

He nodded, and Abby gave him the thumbs up as she tottered away.

"Perhaps I should go with you, Gibbs?" Ziva appeared at his shoulder.

He shook his head. "No…I need you to go with McGee. Besides, we don't know for sure if it was Tony."

"Even if it was…he's still missing." Fornell's matter-of-fact tone stating the bottom line brought them down to Earth with a bang. A tense silence followed as Ziva and McGee wordlessly grabbed their gear and walked away.

"Not for long…" Gibbs said pointedly, loud enough so his agents could hear him. It had the desired effect as they looked back and gave him a nod.

Vance locked eyes with him. "Go find him, Gibbs…Bring DiNozzo home."

ooooOoooo

"That's Steve. Mind you, he didn't look that pretty when I saw him." Doctor Sheridan said sadly as she handed back his PDA.

Gibbs wondered how Tony would feel about being described as _pretty_. He reckoned it would give him a buzz. Knowing DiNozzo, he'd goad McGee about it until Tim was red in the face. Ziva would hand out one of her put-downs but it was all a game. Tony thrived on their barbed exchanges and if she didn't join in the snark, he was disappointed. Gibbs made a mental note to tell him. He hoped to get the chance to do it soon.

The doctor's pager went off, but unlike some of the medics he'd met over the years she calmly switched it off and continued to give him her full attention. "I take it that isn't his real name."

He gave her a small smile. "No…it's Tony...Tony DiNozzo. He's been a member of my team for over ten years." Gibbs didn't know why he added that, but Doctor June Sheridan had that vibe about her. She possessed an empathy that was hard to resist.

Tony had his secrets, but Gibbs was surprised he'd lied to her. Right then he knew there was something very wrong with his senior agent. "What happened to him, doc?"

She motioned for him to follow her into the doctor's lounge. Inside, she went straight for the coffee pot and poured two cups, handing one over without asking. He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. She smiled. "When you work the hours we do, we need decent coffee. The garbage in those machines outside is undrinkable..." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Okay, there's no easy way to tell you, Special Agent Gibbs…your agent had been tortured. I've worked more graveyard shifts than I care to mention but I've never seen anyone as badly beaten as he was…not even on a Saturday night. From the deep ligature marks on his wrists I'd guess he'd been strung up somewhere and used as a punch bag. After they'd broken two of his fingers, cracked his ribs and bruised his kidneys, some bastard whipped him with a belt. The lacerations weren't long, but there were a helluva lot of them, and some of them were deep. By the time he got here he'd lost a significant amount of blood. If he hadn't come in when he did…"

He'd guessed Tony had been through hell, but hearing his injuries laid out like that sent a chill down his spine. He focused on the positive. Tony had survived. "Who brought him in?"

"The paramedics responded to a 911 from a bus driver. Tony collapsed while resisting help as he tried to leave the bus. Apparently, he told the driver he couldn't afford to stick around… Anyway, he was unconscious when they brought him in and an MRI confirmed he has a grade three concussion. He didn't have any ID on him, so when he came round I tried to get him to talk, but I could barely get his name. He was trying to hide it but I could tell he was spooked. Who wouldn't be after what he'd been through? Later when I tried to rouse him from a bad dream, he didn't respond to the name he gave me. He was also evasive when I asked him for his emergency contact. Tony walked out before I could run more tests but...I'm pretty sure he's lost his memory."

Gibbs sighed, took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know you didn't have much time with him, but do you think the memory loss could be permanent?"

June shrugged. "Honestly…without more tests, I just don't know. Tony suffered a horrendous ordeal – that alone would be enough for his brain to switch off. With severe head traumas it can take days, weeks…even years. In some cases long term memory never fully returns. The sooner you can get him back into medical care the better chance he'll have. He was also starting a temp when he skipped. Tony needs to be in a hospital, Special Agent Gibbs. He's a very sick man."

"That's the plan, Doc." He downed the rest of the cooling brew in one gulp, and handed the mug to her. "Thanks…"

"It was just coffee."

His eyes were warm when he looked at her. "It was good coffee…and if it wasn't for you my agent would be dead. I owe you, Doc."

"Just get him the help he needs. That's payment enough for me."

ooooOoooo

Tobias was on his cell when he came into the parking lot. He was too preoccupied to make sense of the _uh huhs _or even attempt to follow the largely one-sided conversation, but it was clear Fornell was getting fired up about something. Give him his due, his first question after he snapped shut his cell was about Tony. "Well…what have you got?"

"Not much that we didn't already suspect. They tortured him, Tobias."

Gibbs wasn't given to public displays, hell any displays of emotion, but he guessed the pain showed in his face as Fornell went quiet for a moment. "He's still alive, Jethro…focus on that. Get him home first. Later when his physical wounds heal then you can help him put the pieces back together. There's no one better than you to help him. He'll be okay."

"Doc thinks he's lost his memory."

Fornell winced. "Crap…that explains why he didn't get in touch. We'll find him. It's just a matter of time."

"Yeah…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, relieved his voice came out normal. "What was the call about?"

"I had a hunch about the Italian restaurant so I contacted a buddy of mine in the DEA. He's got some information to share, but…he's only willing to speak to me. I'll drop you at the storage unit then head down there."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "A hunch, huh? And I thought the FBI didn't go with their gut."

"We don't…" Fornell smirked. "We have _hunches._"

Gibbs smiled despite himself. "Whatever it is you've got take it to the DEA and find out what they have. I'll walk. It's only a few miles and I need to clear my head."

"A _few_ miles? It's at least ten by my reckoning."

Gibbs mouth tugged at the edges. "_Some_ of us keep in shape, Tobias…"

Fornell rolled his eyes and put up his hands. "Fine…Go clear your head. I'll catch up with you later."

As the dark, sleek car picked away Gibbs watched it merge into the traffic. The rational part of his brain told him it was dumb to refuse a ride. He was wasting time, time that could be used to get answers. Figure out where Tony was. Find the killers of the two men, and what the hell they'd been up to. Why they'd snatched Tony in the first place. Why someone had wanted them dead. The storage unit might have some or all of the answers but right now he couldn't think straight. He needed a time out.

He reluctantly conceded Vance had been right. He _was_ too emotionally involved in the case.

Tony wasn't just a member of his team. He was a member of his family. Each day he wasn't found, another part of him died a little. Kate's death had knocked him for six. It had taken him a long time even after Ari was killed, before he was able to look at the man in the mirror.

Deep down he still blamed himself for her death, but life went on whether you wanted it to or not. Tony's abduction wasn't his fault, at least he didn't think so, but it made no difference. It was his job to keep his family safe. If he didn't get to him in time, Gibbs didn't know how he could live with the guilt.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	9. Chapter 9

Many thanks again for all the reviews! I enjoy writing but it's a solitary hobby. Receiving your feedback makes all the hours spent at my pc worthwhile!

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 9**

In the dark no one could see his tears but he quickly wiped them away, just in case. The memory had taken him by surprise. Not just surprise, it had wrenched out his heart, crushed it into smithereens and left him as broken as he'd been the day it happened. The day his mother died.

Like a magnet he'd been drawn to the movie theatre. It was warm and dry. A good place to hide out, kill some time until his memory returned and the Cagney marathon was the icing on the cake. Besides, he didn't feel so good.

The euphoria of sneaking away unseen had soon disappeared when the chills started. He'd been drifting off, barely able to keep his eyes opened, when Angels With Dirty Faces appeared on the screen transporting him to another time and place. Suddenly he was back in his childhood. A kid trying to be brave as the woman he'd loved more than any other slipped away. He was ashamed he'd forgotten his mom, even for a short time. Their Saturdays spent at the movies were precious, the best time in his life, but her passing was a painful memory he'd kept buried. What had he done to deserve this? Why of all the memories, things he needed to remember, did that crappy one pop into his brain?

His head was pounding, the dizziness he'd been keeping at bay coming back in full force. He shivered, but the warmth of the room that had been welcome when he'd first arrived was now suffocating, unbearably hot. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face, pooling into the small of his back, and running down his chest. Fresh air sounded good but his legs were trembling, plus he wouldn't put it past the grouch at the desk to charge him a second time when he wanted back inside. The matinee ticket had eaten the last of his money.

"Anyone sitting here?"

It was a dumb question, the sort of inane comment people used to be polite, or to start a conversation. He warily eyed the older man with the brutal haircut and immediately tensed up. The military cut reminded him of the men who'd beaten him, but his hair was grey. He was too old for active service, although he didn't give off an old guy vibe. This man looked fit. Fit enough to give anyone a run for their money. He hoped he wasn't trouble…

There was something about him that looked familiar, but his fuzzy brain couldn't place him. Had he been in the warehouse too? He couldn't remember. The man was watching him, his blue eyes scanning his face but giving nothing away.

"I'm waiting for a friend."

It sounded lame even to his ears, but the man simply moved to the seat one along. He became instantly alert, uncomfortable in his presence. He wanted to leave, escape, but a deep lethargy had set into his bones. He didn't know if he could move – not even if his life depended on it. When the man spoke his stomach clenched and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"This is a great movie. How many times have you seen it, Tony?" The off hand comment hung in the air. It shook him to the core.

As the man shifted in his seat his jacket opened slightly and he recognised the bulge of a gun hidden underneath. His back was burning but despite the fiery pain shooting up his neck he forced himself to turn round and face him. "If you've come to kill me…I won't go down without a fight."

Of all the things he'd expected, he didn't bargain on the wounded expression that flashed across his face. The man went silent for a moment, his voice quiet when he spoke again. "I want to help you, Tony. The men who hurt you are dead. You don't need to hide any more."

Confused, he started to panic. How did he know that? How did he know him? And why should he believe a word he said? But just like the man himself, the name Tony struck a cord. His nerves were on edge and his heart was racing so fast it was getting hard to pull in enough air. "H…how…do you know me?"

Without asking the man moved to the seat beside him. "My name's Gibbs. We've worked together for over ten years. You're the best young agent I've every worked with but you're more than that – you're like family. I've been searching for you ever since you went missing." The man put his hand on his head and frowned. "Damn it…you're burning up. I know your memory's screwed but I don't have time to play games." Gibbs pulled out his cell and punched in 911.

There was no reason to trust him. He still couldn't place who Gibbs was, but there was something familiar about the abrasive manner that made him relax.

"The paramedics are on their way." Gibbs told him as he took out a spotless white handkerchief and started mopping his face.

His throat was raw and his mouth parched. "Got any water, Boss?"

"Sure…" Gibbs' mouth lifted at the edges as he opened up a bottle of water, making sure it was safely in his good hand before letting it go.

He barely took a sip when the bottle became too heavy. Only vaguely aware of Gibbs grabbing it before it spilled. The room was swaying, darkness wavering in and out until he couldn't see the flashing images of the movie. He couldn't see Gibbs either, but he heard him shouting his name as the older man became a blur as the world turned black...

ooooOoooo

"How is he?" Ziva blurted out as soon as she came in the room, her face so pale it was almost devoid of color.

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked, ignoring the question for now as he looked past her into the corridor beyond.

"Abby called just as we arrived. She is worried…as am I." She stared at him. "You have not answered my question, Gibbs"

"He's with the doc." It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the answer Ziva wanted either. Fact was, it was a question he didn't want to answer. He was no medic but even a blind man would have been able to tell DiNozzo was in a bad way. His skin had felt clammy under his touch. The heat coming off him in waves before he'd passed out in his arms.

Old habits died hard, even for a man who'd lost his memory. When he'd spotted the old movie theatre showing a Cagney marathon, he guessed that's where he'd find him. At first he'd been elated when he saw the familiar frame sitting slumped in the movie theatre, relieved his gut feeling had paid off. But despite what the doc had told him, Gibbs was unprepared for the state of his senior agent.

Tony was barely recognizable. Even in the darkened room he looked like shit. The flickering lights from the screen highlighted the heavy bruising on his swollen face. The purple swelling reducing his puffy right eye to a mere slit. His face was riddled with cuts. Only one was serious enough to warrant stitches, but the stark white dressing over his eye only served to make him look even worse. Gibbs had struggled to contain his anger, aware his rage would have spooked the man who looked at him like a stranger. That had hurt. But he'd found his agent, got him help, question was – was he too late?

McGee joined them. His face was flushed slightly and Gibbs guessed the probie had run from the parking lot. "How's…"

"Tony is with the doctor." Ziva answered in a clipped tone, the piercing look out the corner of her eye letting him know she was aware he was holding back. Tim merely nodded, instantly aware of the tension between them.

"What did you find in the locker?"

Their assignment seemed like a lifetime away, and from the blank looks and hesitation it was clear Tony's situation had pushed it to the back of their minds. "Well?"

"It was a treasure trove, Boss. We found paintings, furniture – antiques I'd guess, and there was a stash of party drugs stacked up in the corner. There was also a large safe, but as we didn't find keys on either of the vics, I couldn't open it. I've sent it to Abby."

"We did not find a laptop, but there was a gap in the dust indicating that one had been there." Ziva continued.

Gibbs processed the information and nodded. "Sounds like the killer was trying to cover his tracks."

"But he either didn't have time to take away the stash…or he needed a larger vehicle. Some of that furniture was pretty big."

McGee's comment was the last thing said for several minutes as an uneasy silence descended. Anxiety filling the room as Tim went to stand beside Ziva. Gibbs made no move to break it. He didn't believe in small talk at the best of times. Hated worn out platitudes even more. It was raining outside, the dark, damp weather suiting his mood. He went over and stared out the window, not seeing anything. The sound of a familiar foot fall made him turn round. His heart sank at the expression on his old friend's face. Ducky looked troubled.

"I've spoken to the doctor in charge of his care...a Doctor Malcolm," the ME paused for a moment, looked at them and cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry, there's no easy way to say this…I'm afraid Tony has contracted septicaemia. It's no ones fault, except of course of the men who whipped him, as I am sure the doctor in Fairfax did a good job of cleaning out the wounds. However, I have no doubt that by the time Tony eventually received help, the damage had already been done. Open wounds are notoriously fertile breeding grounds for infections, and from what we now know, he had been on the move for some time after he escaped from the warehouse. I understand they had started him on treatment to counteract this possibility… unfortunately he absconded from the hospital before this could take effect. As a consequence the infection has taken hold causing a high fever and a build up of fluid in his lungs. Doctor Malcolm is delivering broad spectrum antibiotics by IV, and has intubated Tony to allow his lungs a chance to recover." Ducky let out a long sigh. "I'm not going to lie…Tony is a very sick young man."

"He's been through worse…" Gibbs said quietly.

"Yeah…Tony survived the plague."

"Indeed he did, Timothy…however he did not come out of that unpleasant episode unscathed. His lungs were scarred. It is to his credit he has managed to build up his fitness since, but the damage he sustained by the brutal beating has taken its toll. At the moment he simply does not have the strength to fight off the infection."

Ziva's eyes flashed with anger as she came over to stand in front of the ME. "What are you saying, Ducky. Are you telling us Tony is going to die?"

"No, Ziva, I'm not saying that. Tony is getting the best possible care and we all know what a fighter he is." His blue eyes looked sad as they took in everyone present. "All I am saying is he has a battle on his hands and at the moment, the outcome cannot be assured."

"He's not gonna die, Duck…"

"I sincerely hope not. Tony has shown great fortitude before…but -"

"There are no _buts_ about it, Ducky…he's _not_ going to die." Gibbs ground out between clenched teeth.

"Jethro…I know you subscribe to mind over matter and while I believe the brain is a powerful motivator, simply commanding Tony to survive may not be enough. In any event the poor boy is in a medically induced coma. He _won't_ be able to hear you."

Deep down he knew Ducky was just trying to prepare him for the worse case scenario but he couldn't, wouldn't accept it. Next time he spoke his voice came out as a terse, angry whisper. "He may not be able to hear me…but he'll know I'm there." He glared at the older man in front of him. "Take me to him – **now**. I wanna see him…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, at least they've found him...

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Many thanks for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I'm glad you enjoyed the reunion between Tony and Gibbs as much as I loved writing it! Now of course Tony needs to get well, and of course there is the matter of who killed the two men...**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 10**

Years in the marines had taught Gibbs to sleep anywhere.

The plastic chair by Tony's bed was by no means comfortable, but he'd napped inbetween visits from the medical staff. Instantly waking every time they came to check Tony's vitals, or top up his meds. From the man himself, there wasn't a flicker. Not a sound or a single movement since he'd taken up his post the night before.

The silent, unmoving form was un-nerving. Ducky told him not to expect anything this soon and he hadn't, but from the day they'd met, Tony DiNozzo always had something to say. The constant stream of movie references and practical jokes could drive him to distraction but if Tony survived, he'd never complain again.

Despite being quiet in the intensive care unit, there was a constant flurry of activity. As he watched them tend their seriously ill patients, he was aware that many of the doctors and nurses working in Bethesda had risked their lives while serving alongside the military on the front line. They could have chosen a safer, easier life. He admired their courage and dedication.

The nurse assigned to Tony was pretty. She was too young for him, but the warm brown eyes, and the dark, almost black hair peeping from under her cap was just DiNozzo's type. Stella had told him she was being deployed soon. He hoped DiNozzo got a chance to meet her before she left.

There were no windows in the unit, but a check of his watch told him it was nearly zero-six-hundred hours. He didn't want to leave but reluctantly conceded Ducky was right. Tony wouldn't come round until he was off the vent. It didn't feel right leaving him alone, however he wanted to solve the mystery of why he'd been targeted in the first place.

Someone was responsible. His gut told him it was the same person who murdered Brownlee and Williams, but a wise man, his dad, taught him never jump to conclusions. If, as he suspected, they were the men who'd tortured Tony, the only thing he was sorry about was not bringing them to justice himself. Nevertheless, regardless of how he felt, both guys had families. He owed it to them to find their killers. He'd just got to his feet when Fornell came towards him.

Tobias winced when he caught sight of the man on the bed. "Man…they sure did a number on him."

"Yeah…" Gibbs had been watching Tony all night and still couldn't get his head round that under the myriad of cuts, multicolored bruises and swollen skin was a member of his family. If anything, today he looked worse. The familiar impotent rage came back in full force, and he felt his hands ball into fists by his side. "You here for a reason, Tobias?"

Fornell gave him a sharp look but let the curt comment pass. "Maybe I got it wrong, but I _thought _you'd like to know what I found out from my friend in the DEA. Besides, you left your car at the Navy Yard. Remember?"

He was worried, tired but more than anything he needed to hit something. This was neither the time nor place, so he reined in his emotions. Lashing out at Tobias or anyone else trying to help, wasn't fair.

"Sure…I'll be right out. Just give me a minute." As the FBI man went to leave, Gibbs called over. "Tobias…thanks." His old friend nodded, words unnecessary. Gibbs waited until his dark coat was out of sight before he once again sat down by Tony's side.

There were IVs snaking out of each arm, but he carefully threaded through the tubing to put a hand on his arm before bending in close to his ear. "Don't give up, Tony…Don't let them win."

There was no response and he envisaged Ducky shaking his head and giving him one of his _looks_, but he didn't regret trying. He gave the cold, pale arm a final pat wishing its owner would wake up and swat it away. He hoped Tony knew he was there. Most important, he hoped he would keep fighting.

ooooOoooo

Revived by the shower, Gibbs was shaving when the familiar smell of eggs and bacon wafted under the bathroom door. He couldn't help but smile at the gall of the man. Tobias making himself at home in his kitchen was one thing. The fact he felt hungry for the first time in days was a bigger surprise. He roughly dried his hair, changed his clothes and wasted no time in following his nose.

"Where do you keep the plates?" Fornell asked without turning round.

"Don't you know?" Gibbs drawled sarcastically as he went to stand beside him, opened the cupboard and pulled out two white plates. While Tobias dished out the food he grabbed some flatware and poured out the coffee. Both men sat down at the table at the same time. Gibbs took a forkful and gave his companion a wry smile. "This isn't half bad. You're gonna make some lucky woman a decent husband one day."

"_Funny_…"

"Anyway…It's not that I don't appreciate the home cooking, but why did you make me breakfast?"

Tobias finished chewing and took a sip of coffee before replying. "I missed breakfast to pick you up this morning. Anyway, correct me if I'm wrong, I haven't seen you eat much since Tony disappeared." Gibbs didn't reply, but his smile vanished. "Look, Jethro…I know he's in a bad way, but he's alive. You got him back, he's safe now. You aren't doing him any favors by running yourself into the ground."

"You know I've got a dad – right?" Gibbs glared at him, letting his fork fall and clatter onto the plate.

"Yeah…and the man who brought up Leroy Jethro Gibbs deserves a medal." Tobias muttered, shaking his head slightly. "Just eat your damn eggs while I tell you what I found out."

Gibbs didn't like being mollycoddled, but he _was_ hungry...

"Okay, as it stands the DEA suspect the restaurant is a front for a major drug running ring supplying party drugs throughout the city. I say _suspect_, as so far they haven't been able to get any proof. The guy who runs it, Mario Vicente, is smart. He works hard and greases a lot of palms to stay under the radar. The few informants who have come forward have either retracted their story or, in one case the guy wasn't seen again. My friend also believes he has some high ranking people on the payroll, including senior police officers and at least one member of the judiciary. Abby has confirmed that the fingerprints found in the locker belong to Williams and Brownlee so...given there were drugs found inside I'm guessing that's the connection. If you want my opinion I don't think Vicente killed them. If he had - we wouldn't have found the bodies."

Gibbs finished the last of his meal and leaned back against the chair. "I agree…but I still want to speak to him again. How do you feel about Italian for lunch?"

"Sorry, as much as I'd like to watch you get on the wrong side of the Mafia, I'm off the case now." Fornell glanced at his watch, "In fact…it's time I was going."

He started gathering up the dishes, but Gibbs stopped him. "Leave them. And thanks for breakfast…even if it was my food."

"So _picky_…" Tobias made a face as he started to put on his coat.

Gibbs walked him to the door and they shared a smile as he left. Nothing more needed to be said, although he was pretty sure he owned him more than one…

ooooOoooo

"Gibbs!" Abby's greeting nearly deafened him, but her tight hug made him feel the way it always did – loved.

She was a sweet kid with a soft heart who cared for all of them. Abby was older than Kelly would've been, but he was pretty sure if they'd met, the two girls would have been friends. He was holding a Caf-Pow in one hand, but the simple pat he gave with the other seemed to suffice as she pulled away, smiling.

"You got Tony back!" She grinned, the wide smile lighting up her face. "That was so_ooo _clever of you to go into that movie theatre. Of course…that's why you're the boss man."

"You know he's sick…" He said softly. He didn't want to upset her but it was important she knew the truth. Was prepared. Just in case.

Her smile faded. "Of course I know…but this is Tony we're talking about. He's going to be okay, Gibbs." She hugged him again. It was less fierce this time plus he got the distinct impression it was for his benefit.

"What have you got for me, Abs?" The Goth's red tartan mini-kilt swayed slightly as she hobbled on high platform boots towards the safe that was lying open on the bench.

"Whoever got into the locker thought they were clever…but he weren't as smart as me!" She flexed her fingers and wore a wicked smile. "He may have got away with the laptop, but even with the key, he couldn't have gotten into the safe without the combination."

"I can see you got in, Abby…"

"_And_ of course you want to know what was inside." The words flew out in a torrent but he wasn't in the mood and gave her a look.

"No drum roll?" She glanced up hopefully but on seeing his stony expression, sighed. "Okay…well I found a ton of cash - two hundred and four thousand dollars to be precise. There was also a bunch of floor plans. I'm guessing they were for the jobs they pulled off. Of course...it's possible some of them are for jobs they still had planned." Abby's voice faded. Her face scrunched in concentration as she stared into space.

"_Abby_…"

"Sorry, Gibbs…but this operation could be huge. I was just wondering how long it has been going on."

"You and me both. What else did you find?"

"There was also a ledger." She continued quickly. "It had times and dates with a weird code beside each one. McGee is trying to decode it."

He handed over the Caf-Pow and laid a kiss on her head. "Good job."

"Gibbs…when can I go to see Tony?" She asked in a slightly breathless tone.

It was the question he'd been dreading. Nevertheless, he'd expected it ever since he'd entered the lab. Surprised it had taken Abby this long. "You know Tony's pretty banged up?"

She swallowed and her face went pale. "Ducky told me…I know what to expect, Gibbs."

He shrugged. "Okay…you can visit anytime, but he's in a medically induced coma. He won't be able to hear you, Abs."

She nodded and her ponytails bobbed around her shoulders. "I know that too, but I'd like to go anyway."

He stood looking at her for a moment then gave her a small smile as he bent down and planted a peck on her cheek. "He'd like that."

ooooOoooo

"For a while I thought the codes stood for names, but the initials were too long, plus they didn't tie in with any of the personnel from the list Commander Ferris gave us."

"But you _know_ what they stand for." Gibbs knew McGee had found out. His probie was looking quietly pleased with himself.

"Ships…" McGee pressed the controller instantly bringing up a list of ships. All of them were part of the US fleet currently deployed overseas. He'd highlighted the appropriate letters to link up with the entries in the ledger.

Ziva stepped forward and McGee passed over the controller. She pressed the button and the list was replaced by the floor plans they'd removed from the safe. "Metro has been able to tie up the floor plans with some very high profile robberies dating back over two years. It would also appear they used the Navy to transport the stolen goods out of the country."

"From the type of high-end goods we found in the storage unit, I'd guess they were stolen to order, Boss."

Not much surprised him. This was turning into a bigger deal than he'd first thought, but something didn't fit. "So, if they're dealing in antiques…how do the drugs fit in?"

"One of the heists took place at the mansion of a suspected drug dealer. While he reported the theft of his antiques, funnily enough he never said a word about missing any drugs." McGee gave a wry smile.

"I do not think there is anything funny about it, McGee. It is obvious the man did not want the police to know."

McGee rolled his eyes. "I was being _ironic_, Ziva…"

Ziva blushed slightly, continuing quickly. "Anyway…what is also interesting is that the antiques present in the unit were stolen over a year ago."

"If these robberies were done to order, none of those goods should be there." Gibbs glanced at his team. From their matching expressions he could tell they were all on the same page. "Williams and Brownlee were keeping something back for themselves."

"That would also explain why they kept the drugs. They are relatively easy to move and would be a ready source of income." Ziva continued.

"If that's the case there's something else," Gibb's raised an eyebrow and waited for the penny to drop.

McGee snapped his fingers. "Of course…there has to be a Mr Big. Williams and Brownlee were working for someone else!"

"This is a large operation, too big for two or three men to work themselves. I will go back and check the whereabouts of everyone on that list during the dates of the robberies." Ziva said, already on the way back to her desk.

"And I'll do a background check on Williams' and Brownlee's commanding officers."

"Before you do anything I want you to check the call log from the restaurant the night Tony was abducted. Every phone, including the owner's cell."

Tim's expression darkened. "Do you think there's a link?"

"We got Williams' prints from the streetlamp outside, so it's looking likely they ate there. I want to tie the pieces together. We still don't know _why_ Tony was abducted."

As he spoke Gibbs retrieved his badge and gun from his drawer. He looked round and saw Ziva watching him.

"How was he when you left him this morning?"

He took a moment to secure his sidearm before replying. "No change."

"But he's not any worse?" Tim asked in a low voice.

Gibbs shook his head. He didn't usually give his team a blow by blow account of his whereabouts. They could call if he was needed. But what happened to Tony had unsettled everyone. "I'm heading to the restaurant, then back to the hospital." When Ziva opened her mouth to ask the inevitable question, he put up his hand. "Both of you did good work today…but I need you here to follow through."

They looked disappointed. That couldn't be helped. Tony was his responsibility. He might not have been able to prevent what happened to him but _when_ not if his second came round, he would be looking for answers. Gibbs was determined to get them.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that, and please review!


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks again for all the alerts and to all the kind folks who reviewed! Unfortunately I can't reply to those who sign in as guests, but your feedback is much appreciated!

Now, we left Gibbs on his way to visit a certain Mr Vicente...

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 11**

Mario was aware the DEA was watching him, but he wasn't worried. He was careful. Paid well. He also had influential connections both in government and law enforcement, people who ensured he wasn't met with unwelcome surprises. When he found out his call logs had been scrutinised for the second time in a month, he'd soon found out who was behind it. He didn't even try to act surprised when the grey-haired NCIS agent walked into the restaurant.

He understood and sympathized with his situation. Family was important. Special Agent Gibbs was a man who took care of his own. He admired that. Gibbs also struck him as the type who did his homework, but whether or not he knew of the DEA investigation into his activities didn't matter. Besides, he guessed Gibbs' interest was focused elsewhere. Who had abducted his agent.

"Special Agent Gibbs, how nice to see you." He smiled, ignoring the stern expression, before turning to his daughter who was standing behind the counter. "Carla…get Special Agent Gibbs a coffee."

He could tell Gibbs had been ready to refuse, but from the glint in his eye he could see the NCIS agent was prepared to give him the first move. Mario liked him. It had been quite a while since he'd engaged in conversation with someone worthy. Gibbs was an intelligent man. Nobody's fool. He was looking forward to the exchange.

It was Friday, a busy day for lunches and nearly every table was full. Gibbs glanced round then back at him. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Of course...Carla, we are going into the office. And, Carla - I don't want to be disturbed."

Gibbs' eyes wandered over the photographs on the wall that brightened the small windowless space. Many had been taken around the family home in Sicily where he'd been born and lived the first eight years of his life - before his father lost favour.

His father had never settled in America, but to Mario it was home. Nevertheless, he still wanted to show the name Vicente meant something. Not so much for himself. He was already a man of means with enough money to provide well for his beautiful daughter. No, he wanted to amass a large empire in memory of his beloved papa. To prove a point to the family they had made a mistake. To make them regret shunning a man who'd worked tirelessly on their behalf. Denying him the simply right of being allowed home to be buried in the land of his birth.

Mario was a patient man and waited for the interrogation to begin. He was under no illusion that this was a social call.

"Do you recognize either of these two men?"

Mario took the PDA from Gibbs and looked carefully at the two pictures before handing it back. "It _is _possible these men could have been here. With the port nearby, many of my customers are from the Navy."

"We found the fingerprints of one of the men, Lt Williams, on the street light outside."

Gibbs stared at him, but he didn't flinch. He could tell the NCIS agent knew he was holding something back however as the Americans put it, this wasn't his first rodeo.

"Am I correct in thinking this has to do with your missing agent?" He asked, sidestepping the inference as he sipped his espresso.

"Both of these men were murdered." Gibbs didn't answer his question, but the omission was just as telling.

Mario took his time and finished the last of his coffee. "I am sorry to hear that. Look, I can tell you are a direct man…so am I. As I said before it is possible they may have come into my restaurant, but we get a lot of customers. I regret I cannot assist you." He continued to hold Gibbs' gaze, neither man breaking eye contact. "Is that all? Or is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Just one more thing…Why did you place a call to metro on the night my agent was in the restaurant?"

The atmosphere changed in an instant, the tension palpable. Mario forced himself not to change his expression. "I have one of the best chefs in the city and the food served in my restaurant brings in a large clientèle but…when I get a visit from a man wearing a gun, I become concerned. I simply wanted to check if Special Agent DiNozzo was who he said he was."

"Tony was off duty when he came here so I doubt he would have identified himself in that way…Just speculating here, Mr Vicente, but I'm guessing you got that information from the two men you say you've never met."

Mario realized too late he'd been lax with the NCIS agent and his slip was costing him. He'd underestimated Gibbs. The man was an even better opponent than he'd first surmised. He smiled again. "You know, Special Agent Gibbs, there are some people who mistakenly believe that because my family once had connections in the old country, we are all tarred with the same brush. Me...I am a simple businessman. However, if I _were _involved in some illegal activity I would not be so foolish as to draw unwanted attention to myself." Mario stood up. "Now, I have a business to run so if there is nothing else?"

Gibbs' mouth curved at the edges. "Nope…I'll show myself out."

As he started to walk away, Mario called after him. "Special Agent Gibbs, you didn't answer my question. Did you find your agent?"

Gibbs stopped in his tracks, the unreadable expression back. "Thanks for the coffee…" The NCIS agent nodded to him, smiled at Carla and left.

Mario returned to his ledgers and sighed. This complication was the last thing he needed. With the ongoing DEA investigation he'd had to scale down his business of late. He wondered how long it would be until the heat was off and sales would be back on track. Still, he was a patient man…

ooooOoooo

"Garlic, and if I'm not mistaken the sweet aroma of rosemary." Ducky's nose twitched the minute Gibbs walked in the ICU. "I do hope you brought something for me, Jethro. Lunch here was a patchy affair and while my gut may not be as talented as yours, it is conveying the message that food is required…and soon. I cannot recall the last time I tasted a proper lasagne, but I confess you have put me in the mood."

Gibbs sniffed his jacket. He'd been too busy to notice but now realized the scent from the restaurant was lingering on his clothes. "I wasn't there for take out."

"Ziva informed me you were paying a visit to the restaurant. Did it bring any new leads?"

"Not in the way you'd think. There's no doubt the restaurant is a front, but I'm pretty sure Vicente wasn't behind Tony's abduction."

"Do you think he was responsible for killing our two sailors?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Don't see it. The guy's smart, too smart to draw that kind of heat. If he wanted someone dead…I doubt we'd ever find the body. How he's doing, Duck?"

Both men glanced at the man lying on the bed. Tony looked like crap. The swelling on his eye was down slightly, but the pale bruises had taken on a darker, more ominous color. His cheek and jaw was now purple tinged with a black hue, the shallow cuts appearing as stark red slashes against his skin. He was also still on the vent. Gibbs had hoped to see him off the damn thing by now, but at least he was alive.

"The poor boy looks worse today however the darkened color of the bruises is indicative of the healing process."

"Tell me something I don't know…" Gibbs muttered under his breath, instantly regretting the sharp comment when his friend stared at him through the spectacles perched at the end of his nose.

"Of course…I should have remembered you have significant personal experience in that area. I can only imagine the number of blows you have sustained during the pursuit of your duties over the years. As to Anthony's current condition you will be pleased to learn there has been a slight improvement."

Instantly he felt like a weight had been lifted off. He felt himself start to relax for the first time in days. "That's great…"

"It is _better_ news, nevertheless Tony is still dangerously ill. But, on a positive note, I've just spoken to his doctor who told me if Tony continues to improve he hopes to remove him from the ventilator…perhaps as soon as tomorrow."

"He's gonna be okay, Duck."

"I hope so. Young Anthony is certainly putting up quite a fight."

"DiNozzo's always been stubborn. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Yes he is…a trait you both share." Ducky stiffly got to his feet, retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on. The older man checked his watch and winced. "Oh, dear…I didn't realize it was that late."

"You got a date?"

The ME drew him a look. "Not in the conventional sense. My next door neighbor has entrusted me with feeding her cat while she is on vacation. I'm more of a dog lover myself, but I must confess she is a nice little thing."

Gibbs mouth twitched. "The cat…or the owner?"

"_Both_…"

Ducky's eyes danced with amusement, and Gibbs gave a low chuckle. "You'd better go then. And, Ducky...thanks."

"No thanks are needed. Tony is one of the family…we care for our own."

ooooOoooo

It felt like déjà vu sitting there but Gibbs had nowhere else he needed to be. His boat was a work in progress. There was nothing at home except a lumpy couch, a bottle of bourbon and too many hours to kill. Even though Tony was unconscious he liked to believe his senior agent sensed his presence.

He'd never been much for conversation, at least not since Shannon died. Looking back, she was the one who did most of the talking. He'd communicated his feelings through actions, not long flowery speeches. Shannon hadn't needed a bunch of words to know how much he loved her, loved them both. Normally he didn't trust people who ran off at the mouth, until he met DiNozzo…Tony could be a sweet talker with the ladies, but he was straight as an arrow, honest, hard-working, and one of the few people he'd trust with his life. There were times his fooling around could get annoying, but Gibbs wanted him back – warts and all.

"Hi, Special Agent Gibbs." Stella, Tony's nurse, appeared at the other side of the bed with a tray full of wet wipes.

"Call me Gibbs." He nodded towards the tray. "Do you want to get in here? I can wait outside."

She smiled. "No need…_Gibbs_. Tony is running a temp so I just need to cool him down, make him more comfortable."

Tony was so badly bruised he hadn't noticed the thin sheen of sweat covering his skin. He watched as Stella donned a fresh pair of latex gloves, tore open the top of the first packet and gently started wiping his face. DiNozzo flinched slightly then shivered. The small spasm rippling across his body was the first movement he'd seen from him in days.

"Is he?"

"Waking up," Stella finished his question, but shook her head, "no…it's an automatic reflex. His body's is simply reacting to stimuli. Do you want to help?"

"Uh…okay."

Stella looked pleased, but her expression held a hint of surprise. Almost as surprised as he was for volunteering. "Great. Go and wash your hands first, then I'll give you a gown to cover your clothes."

The other nurses smiled at him, but while he initially felt out of his comfort zone it felt good knowing he could do something to help. When the covers were pulled down and he saw the heavy bruising covering Tony's chest, he felt the familiar rage come back. He didn't know if he could do this. What if he accidentally hurt him? He was about to walk away when Stella spoke to him.

"Thanks for the help. Some people say coma patients aren't aware of what happens around them, but I don't agree. Tony knows you're here, Gibbs." She tore open another packet and handed it to him. "If you start on the left side, I'll do the right. Start with his arm but avoid the area with his IVs, and be especially careful around his ribs. Some of them are cracked."

It felt odd, even slightly uncomfortable, but right now there was nothing else he could do for Tony. Nevertheless, it wasn't information he was ever going to share – with anyone.

ooooOoooo

He was burning. The raging fire that had started in his back now searing, setting every fibre of his being alight as it ripped through his body from the inside out. But he couldn't escape it. Just like when he was tied to the beam his limbs were locked in place, he couldn't move. He was trapped.

Muted, muffled sounds wavered in and out. The voices were indistinct but one, a man's, was vaguely familiar. He tried to figure it out. Tried to fit a name to the image that popped into his woolly brain, but the memory was illusive.

He shivered as something cold touched his skin. At first the intrusion felt invasive, but as it eased the fire, the hell of before became a little more bearable. Small hands, a woman's, touched his face, the simple contact a comfort in its own. Just as he started to relax a different hand, a man's hand, made contact with his arm…

The memory of the beating came rushing back, overwhelming him with panic and fear. He was back in the warehouse, struggling to breathe as iron-like fists pounded into his face, his ribs, his back. In so much pain but unable to escape, helpless to resist as the bastard took off his belt…

His heart was racing, thudding against his chest. The blood roaring through his ears so loud he could barely hear the squealing sound of machines and raised, worried voices. Then he heard someone yelling - Gibbs…

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review. I love to know what you think of the story!


	12. Chapter 12

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 12**

"Where's Gibbs?"

Tim was wondering the same thing himself. It was eight-thirty, late by NCIS standards but for Leroy Jethro Gibbs, unheard of. The only reason Gibbs wouldn't have made an appearance in the bullpen by now was if he was already in an early meeting with Vance. As Vance was the one asking the question that left only one other reason, he was sick. But that was impossible. Gibbs _never_ got sick.

"He is having car trouble…"

"He's just left the hospital…"

Tim flushed under Ziva's glare, then got mad at himself for feeling guilty. It wasn't his fault they didn't get their story straight before replying. Vance had caught them unawares. He was worried about him, they both were. Gibbs hadn't been himself since Tony disappeared, but given the circumstances it wasn't that unusual. The boss took it personally if anything happened to one of them, his instinct to protect making him grouchier than usual. His bottled up rage showed itself in a number of ways, but tardiness wasn't one of them.

Vance's steely gaze said without words just what the guy was thinking. Tim tried not to squirm under his scrutiny, but couldn't help feeling like a kid who'd been caught red-handed passing along a note in class. In hindsight that wouldn't have been such a bad idea, if they'd had the time. Part of him knew Gibbs wouldn't want them lying for him, but he couldn't let the boss down. He needed to at least try and salvage the situation. "Gibbs called, Director. He said he'd be late. When he went to leave the hospital his car wouldn't start."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said he'd already _left_ the hospital, McGee."

"McGee is correct. It took a while but he eventually managed to get it to start. However…as he has been there all night he wanted to stop at his apartment to change and shower." Ziva finished the explanation looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Tim was impressed and made a mental note never to play her at poker, but he could tell by the way Vance was still watching them he wasn't. There was an uneasy silence before he spoke. "_Fine_…tell Gibbs I want to see him as soon as he arrives."

"Yes, Director…"

It was the second time in minutes they'd replied in unison and Tim tried not to figit as Vance drew them a final scathing look before slowly shaking his head as he strolled away. Ziva continued playing it cool, and he followed her lead as he studiously stared into his computer screen, banging on the keyboard, until his team mate signalled Vance was safely in his office out of earshot.

"Where could he be? When Abby and I went to visit Tony last night, Gibbs had already left."

"He's not answering his cell either." Tim muttered, uncertain what to do next. The boss had pulled in a lot of late nighters so if he was catching up on some sleep he couldn't blame him. Then again, if something _had _happened to him he'd never forgive himself. He got to his feet in one fluid movement. "Ducky might know…

"Ducky might know what?" The man himself appeared at the edge of the bullpen.

"Gibbs is missing, Ducky." Ziva explained. "No one has heard from him since he went to the hospital last night."

"Really? That is strange. I was there when he arrived. I know it was his intension to sit with Tony for a few hours."

"He was gone by the time Abby and I arrived at twenty-hundred hours." Ziva said, sounding concerned.

The ME picked up the nearest phone and after a short monosyllabic conversation he replaced the receiver on its cradle. "Leave it with me. I believe I know _exactly_ where to find him."

ooooOoooo

Gibbs couldn't remember the last time he'd suffered a hangover. It wasn't that he didn't drink. Sometimes he even drank to excess but never if he was working the next day, and _never _to the point where he was falling down drunk. At least not until last night.

His head was thumping worse, he didn't have a damn clue how long he'd been out. The room swam when he prised open his gritty eyes but he ignored the lightheaded feeling and sat bolt upright when he caught sight of his wrist watch.

"I imagine you must have _quite_ the headache." Ducky's face swam into view, the older man cringing as he held up the empty bottle of bourbon. A bottle he'd only opened the day before. "Here…this will help."

The short glass contained a fizzy, cloudy liquid. He glanced at it and the ME with distaste before downing it in a single gulp. Gibbs wasn't in the mood for conversation. Hell, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. He barely acknowledged the ME's presence, ignoring his outstretched hand as he hauled himself off the basement floor and onto his feet.

His back ached and there was a crick in his neck, but didn't say a word. He had only himself to blame.

He'd lost it when Tony had freaked out. Stella had dealt with it like a pro, quickly and quietly pushing a sedative into his IV, murmuring quiet reassurances until Tony's ragged breathing once again slowed down to a normal rhythm. As for him, he'd barely waited until he saw he was going to be okay before storming out without a word. Why? He'd recognized the reaction for what it was. Tony, comatose or not, had reacted to his touch. The touch of a man's hand, _his_ hand, had sparked off a flashback to his ordeal. Gibbs couldn't get the image of his battered body arching against the convulsions out of his head. Tony's face contorted in pain and fear would live with him the rest of his life. He felt like crap. The last thing he'd wanted was to cause him more pain.

What Stella must be thinking he didn't know. All he did know was that he'd failed him. Failed to save him from the inhuman abuse he'd suffered in that warehouse. Failed to reach him before he'd got so damned sick, he nearly died. Part of him knew he needed to get past the guilt to help him, but right now he was doubtful if he could even help himself. The sound of a discreet cough reminded him he wasn't alone.

"The Director has been asking for you. Your team has covered for you admirably but…"

"I didn't ask them too."

"But they _did_. They are worried about you, Jethro, as am I." Ducky eyes looked sad as they searched his face. "I called the hospital…I _know _what happened."

He went to grab for the bottle then realizing it was empty, leaned against the workbench and let out a long sigh while rubbing his forehead. "Tony was running a high temp. When Stella appeared with a bunch of wet wipes and asked if I wanted to help…I couldn't say no." His mouth twitched and he huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Come to think of it, I think the kid knew I was feeling useless just sitting there watching…He freaked out when I touched him, Ducky - went into convulsions. The machines were blaring…I thought I'd damn well killed him. He thought I was one of them. Tony was afraid of me…"

He raked a hand through his hair spiking his headache, but he didn't care. He could feel his eyes grow moist, heard his voice thicken but held the unshed tears at bay. He wasn't a man who cried and wasn't about to start now.

"Oh, Jethro…" Ducky went to put a hand on his arm, but he wasn't about to accept pity. He rushed past him taking the stairs two at a time, not stopping under he dived into the shower.

He wanted to linger under the hot, stinging spray but old habits died hard. Less than ten minutes later he was washed, dressed and back in the kitchen. Ducky limped over and laid out a stack of toast and a mug of coffee on the table. It struck him as ironic that twice in two days someone was making themselves at home in his kitchen, but he bit back a retort. Besides, this was Ducky. He was one of his oldest friends, someone who'd saw him at his worst, but stuck with him anyway. Gibbs sank into the chair and wordlessly drank his coffee while the older man sipped his Earl Grey. He passed on the toast. His gut hurt but his lack of appetite had nothing to do with the booze.

"You need to stop torturing yourself, Jethro…"

Gibbs burned his mouth as he choked on his coffee. "I wasn't the one who was tortured, Ducky."

"Not physically…but I've seen how you push yourself when one of your family is hurt. How much sleep have you had the last few days? And when did you last finish a meal?" The ME sent him a long measured look, but he didn't reply. "I know the infamous Gibbs has a reputation of being invincible, but you aren't superhuman. You need to stop punishing yourself, Jethro. What happened to Tony _wasn't _your fault."

He wasn't in the mood to discuss it, so drowned the last of his coffee and took the mug over to the sink. "Do you know what Vance wants?" He asked over his shoulder while he rinsed out the mug.

For a moment Ducky said nothing, but disappointment and worry was written over his face. "No…He failed to share that with your team."

Gibbs pulled on his jacket and on autopilot went to lift his car keys but drew back his hand at the last minute, his nagging headache a timely reminder he'd had too much to drink. It would be some hours before he'd be legal to drive.

Ducky anticipated the request before he had the chance to ask. "My car is parked across the road."

"Thanks…"

"Do you want to stop by the hospital first?"

He felt his gut clench as the guilt came flooding back. "Have you called this morning?"

From the expression on the older man's face his attempt to divert the conversation wasn't missed, but after a slight pause he replied. "Tony is continuing to improve. Last night's episode has not set him back in any way."

Gibbs knew Ducky wouldn't lie to him, no matter how bad things were and he felt some of the tension leave his body. "Good…but I'll visit later."

As he went to leave Ducky put a hand on his arm stopping him from opening the door. "Tony is going to need all the support he can to get through this – from you more than anyone. You have witnessed the aftermath of torture before. You know what the victims go through. The physical wounds will heal relatively quickly, but the mind, a person's emotions are more complex. He _will _need your help, Jethro."

"He'll get it…I'll pull him through whatever it takes."

ooooOoooo

Leon glanced at his watch when he heard the sharp, single knock at the door. It was nine-forty five. He didn't need X-ray vision to know who it was. The only surprise was Gibbs hadn't walked right in.

He'd never known the man to be late and wondered what the story was, but it could wait. There was a much more pressing matter to deal with. He signed off a report with a flourish, set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "Come in…"

From his outward appearance Gibbs didn't look any different but he was paler than usual, and there was a tightness around his eyes and jaw that hinted at a headache. Curiosity got the better of him. The pressing matter could wait a little longer. "You're late."

Gibbs' face was impassive as he took the chair opposite. "Is that why you wanted to see me?"

Leon shot him a mild glare, opened a fresh toothpick and put it in his mouth. "No…just curious."

"What did my team tell you?"

He gave him a wry smile. "They covered, but I want to hear it from you."

"I never took you as a hall monitor, but if you want to put a reprimand on my file – knock yourself out." Gibbs frowned and he rose from his seat.

"Fine…don't tell me, but sit down. I'm not done yet."

Leon could tell something was wrong, but Gibbs was clearly not in the mood for sharing. Then again he rarely was. The ex-marine wasn't a big conversationalist at the best of times, still, he thought their relationship had improved over the last couple of years. He was disappointed he didn't trust him enough to let him in. "How's DiNozzo?"

"They say he's improving, but he's still on the vent."

A flash of pain crossed his features and Leon got his answer, at least part of it. "DiNozzo's tough, he's going to be okay…are you?"

He raised his eyes with thinly veiled impatience. "I'm fine. So…apart from asking after my health, why do you want to see me?"

Frustrated, Leon was going to challenge him but decided to let it go. Gibbs was going to be pissed with what he was going to tell him, so there was no point in poking the bear. "I received a call from Senator McGovern. He wasn't best pleased we'd been _snooping_ into his nephew's financials."

"Who's his nephew?"

"Commander Stephen Armstrong…Brownlee's boss." He said quietly, in an attempt to minimize the fallout. "Look, Gibbs if we have something on this guy I have no problem in dealing with the senator. If we don't…we have to let it go. I don't mind making enemies, but not if I don't have a leg to stand on."

"Look, Leon, we have evidence to tie Williams and Brownlee to Tony's assault, but we're still no closer as to who killed them. Personally, I would like to give the guy who did it a medal…but there's a kid who's going to grow up without ever having known his dad. I want to be able to give him, and his mom justice." Gibbs spat out angrily.

"What about the restaurant owner?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Nah...A showy hit like that isn't Vicente's style."

Gibbs was right. It made what he had to say much harder. "If we can't make the connection to either Armstrong or Ferris, we have to drop it. We can't take the kind of heat that would come our way unless we have proof."

Gibbs glared at him. "Are you _telling_ me to drop the investigation, Leon?"

"Unless you have any solid leads on either the murders or the robberies…then yes, I am."

Gibbs shook his head, not attempting to disguise his disgust and walked away.

Undaunted by his abrupt departure Leon called before he reached the door. "This is a big operation, Gibbs. I know there's a naval connection but lets face it, anyone could be behind it. What makes you think the problem is in-house?"

"My gut…"

ooooOoooo

"Tell me you have something…" Gibbs ground out as soon as he reached the bull pen.

Ziva's phone rang just as he got there leaving McGee to answer his question. "I'm sorry, Boss, but we've got nothing." He quickly came round from behind his desk and brought up the information on the screen. "If either of them is involved, I can't find any evidence. Unless…" A smile tugged at his mouth and his eyes widened. "Fine art! That could be it. Pictures, antiques, even rare books are more easily hidden than currency. They could have it stashed at home in plain sight. " He picked up his phone, "I'll get in touch with legal..."

He dragged a hand through his hair, feeling like pulling it out. "Forget it, McGee, Vance has pulled the plug."

McGee drew him a look. "We're stopping the investigation?"

"What do you think?"

Tim smiled. "Got it, Boss."

"Gibbs…"

"Ziva…did you hear any of that?"

She shook her head, but to Gibbs' mind she looked distracted. "What's wrong?"

"Tony is off the ventilator. He is asking for you."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thanks again to all those who reviewed - the support is much appreciated!

I know that Tony didn't make an appearance in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. And please review! I love to know your thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks again to those still following the story. And to the kind souls who took the time to review - you guys are awesome!

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 13**

The room swam into focus and as awareness returned, Tony was vaguely aware he was in hospital. Again.

How and when that had happened he didn't know. A dim memory of meeting Gibbs in an old movie theatre was rattling around his brain, but why would the boss be there? Gibbs wasn't a movie buff. It didn't make sense. Then again, everything was foggy and his memory had been playing tricks on him for so long now he wasn't sure what was real or not.

Even with the heavy duty drugs masking the pain there was a dull, constant ache pulsating through his body. He hated the lethargic way they made him feel but after the beating he took, it was a given without them he would hurt like hell. On the down side they were making his brain fuzzy, difficult to concentrate, but there was one thought he was grimly holding onto – he needed to see Gibbs.

His throat felt raw and tender. Thirsty, he ran his tongue across his lips but they were as dry as the rest of his mouth. Desperate for something to drink he lifted his head to look around and a stab of white hot pain flashed behind his eyes. A groan escaped his lips as a vice-like grip grabbed hold of his chest. The heavy weight bearing down, suffocating him as it squeezed the breath from his body…

"Easy, Tony, just try to relax and breathe…that's it."

A mask was put over his nose and mouth, filling his lungs with air. A hand touched his arm, the slim taped fingers giving it a gentle squeeze. He remembered that hand. It was the same small hand that had gently wiped his face. The voice was kinda familiar too. He'd thought it was part of a dream but the comfort it brought had been real, just as it was now. He felt the tension leave his body and did as the lady told him. He'd never had problems taking orders from a woman.

"My name's Stella. I've been looking after you since you were brought in a couple of days ago. Your wounds became infected and you contracted a nasty infection which got into your blood stream. For a while there you gave us all a scare, but you're on the mend now. The doctor intubated to give your body a chance to get the upper hand, that's why your throat's sore." She smiled at him, a pretty smile that showed off a cute dimple in her chin. "I'll give you some ice in a minute once you get a little more oxygen."

Stella took a wet wipe and patted down his face. Up till then he didn't realize he was sweating. Now he could feel his damp hair slicked against his face, and the heat rising through his skin. He was surprised to find he was shaking and it took more effort than he expected to weakly grab her hand. She was as bright as she was pretty, and he relaxed into the pillow when she got the unspoken message and lifted the mask.

"Gibbs…" The small cracked tone was so unlike his normal voice it caught him by surprise. It hurt to talk but he kept going anyway. "I…I need…" It was all he got out before he went into a coughing jag, the red mist once again descending as the fire in his chest once again took his breath away.

The mask was quickly replaced, but it seemed to take forever for the fiery pain to subside and he was able to breathe again. Stella didn't take her eyes off him, his weak attempt at a smile not fooling either of them. After a few minutes of watching both him and the monitor she once again removed the mask then reached for a cup lying on the cabinet. The ice chips tasted better than the finest chardonnay. He closed his eyes relishing the relief they brought, but when he opened his mouth for another she shook her head.

"You've had enough for now, Tony. Your concussion is improving but I don't want you throwing up."

"Gibbs…" He gasped, hoping his puppy dog eyes got the message across.

"Don't worry, I'll call him. He'll want to be notified anyway." Stella got up, straightened his sheets and smiled at him again. Man, she really was pretty. "He probably wouldn't want you to know this, but he sat with you every night since you were brought in. And, you've had more visitors than anyone in the ward. You're a very popular guy, Tony. " She said cheerfully while loading up a syringe. "Anyway, it's time for your meds."

Before he could protest she pushed the contents of the syringe into his IV and the bank of fog came crowding back in, dulling his senses. The last thing he realized as sleep pulled him under was he was starting to remember. Gibbs wasn't just a name any more. He knew who he was, knew he could trust him...

ooooOoooo

After his abrupt departure the night before Gibbs felt awkward returning to the scene of the _crime_. Stella had no such reservations. The nurse greeted him with a smile as he met her in the hallway.

Rule number six seemed redundant in this circumstance and Gibbs was just about to break it when she forestalled him. "Tony's desperate to see you, but I'm afraid he's sleeping at the moment. Do you want to wait?"

"Stella, about last night."

"Tony had a high fever as well as a concussion. Seizures are a common symptom of both. They aren't an easy thing to watch, especially when it's someone you know. He _is_ going to be alright."

"What about his memory?"

Stella raised an eyebrow. "He asked for _you,_ Gibbs."

He realized it must have sounded like a dumb question, but he persisted. "I get that…I told him who I was just before he blacked out. Until then he didn't know who I was."

Stella went over to the nurse's station and pulled out Tony's file. "When he arrived here he was unresponsive and on the verge of respiratory arrest." She said talking as she read, flicking over the pages. "You're right…the attending physician in Fairfax has noted that in her case notes. I'm sure the doctor is aware of it, but I'll ask him to have a word with you." She went over to the phone attached to the wall and put in a call.

Ducky arrived in time to hear the end of the conversation. "The brain is a complex organ. The trauma Tony suffered combined with his concussion may well have been responsible for the memory loss, however, some time has passed since then. It _is_ possible the condition may have righted itself."

Less than a minute passed when Gibbs saw the tall dark-haired doctor who'd attended Tony when he was admitted coming towards him. "Special Agent Gibbs, Doctor Mallard, please…come with me."

He ushered them into a small office opposite the station. It contained a small desk with a computer off to the side and a couple of hard backed plastic chairs opposite. There were no personal effects of any kind on display and given the solid gold wedding band the man wore, Gibbs guessed the utilitarian space was only used to interview, or console family and friends.

"I understand Tony is no longer intubated." Ducky's comment came out more of a statement than a question.

"That is correct, Doctor Mallard. As you are aware we only intubate as a last resort, but it isn't something we recommend for prolonged periods. While Special Agent DiNozzo is still very sick the antibiotics are doing their job. The fluid around his lungs is starting to disperse and while he is still concussed, the swelling has reduced in the time he's been here. In other words, you'll be pleased to know he is no longer in imminent danger. I believe you have some concerns about his memory, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah…he didn't know who I was when I found him in the movie theatre."

The Doctor rocked back on his chair. "Well…the fact he has asked for you is a good sign, although we won't know more until he can be properly assessed. Something I aim to do in the next couple of days. In the meantime don't push. I appreciate you want answers but at this stage of his recovery that will do more harm than good."

Gibbs knew a warning when he heard one, and he understood the doc's position. He also knew DiNozzo. Tony would want answers just as much, maybe more, than he did.

Back out in the hall, Ducky checked his PDA and sighed. "I came to sit with Anthony for a while, but I regret it will now only be a quick visit. It appears there has been an unfortunate accident on the Enterprise. A body will be arriving in autopsy any time."

"What's his name, Ducky?"

The ME squinted at the small screen. "Seaman Mark Wallace. Apparently he slipped at the top of some stairs. The initial cause of death has been reported as a broken neck…but I will make my own determination. Do you know him?"

Gibbs went silent as something clicked into place in his brain. "He's one of the men Lt Williams worked with."

"Oh…_Oh_ – I see. That's quite a coincidence." A look of understanding passed between the two men. "In which case I shall leave no stone unturned."

Gibbs allowed himself a small smile. "You never do, Duck."

"How is the investigation going? I confess to having lost track after young Anthony was discovered."

"We interviewed all the men Williams placed. Every one of them was in port at one robbery or another but… they all have alibis."

Ducky grimaced in sympathy. "It's no wonder you're frustrated. What about the storage unit? Did anyone return to retrieve the remainder of their ill-gotten gains?"

"No…McGee's set up a surveillance camera, but so far it looks like whoever's behind this is prepared to take the hit. I'm running out of leads, Ducky, so I hope the dead seaman can tell you something."

Ducky gave him a wry smile. "I find the dead more _talkative_ than people would believe. If Seaman Wallace's corpse has a story to tell you can rest assured I will find it."

"I hope so, Ducky…I really do."

ooooOoooo

Tony sensed the presence by the side of the bed long before he opened his eyes. He knew it was Gibbs. The man's quiet, solid presence made him feel safer than he'd felt in days. So safe he'd slept longer than he'd intended, finally giving in to exhaustion and allowing his beleaguered brain and battered body to get the rest it craved.

"You ready to talk to me yet, Tony?"

The boss had him sussed. He didn't know how the man did it, but Gibbs had known he was awake. His cracked lips formed into a small smile and he prised open his eyes. Instead of looking pissed he was surprised to see Gibbs watching him with a mix of relief and concern.

Tony felt like a heel for keeping him hanging. "Sorry, Boss…I was tired."

He left out the part about feeling safer with Gibbs nearby. He'd never considered himself a wuss, and wasn't about to start acting like one. The men who'd tortured him were dead. His ordeal was over. So why did he feel so jumpy? The concussion was still doing a number on his stomach but he didn't think the knot in his gut was just down to that. He couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding. It was like he was stuck in a long dark tunnel with no end in sight. No light to dispel the black cloud that filled him with a sense of dread.

"Don't apologize…Carry on napping if you want - I'll be here when you're ready to talk."

Gibbs sounded tired. When Tony opened his eyes a little wider he was surprised just how exhausted he looked.

He was about to say so but his raspy voice fell away to nothing. Gibbs lifted the cup containing the ice chips and Tony took one gratefully, the pain in his throat immediately starting to ease. He vaguely remembered being desperate to tell Gibbs _something, _but the cobwebs filling his brain were making it hard to concentrate and he was struggling to pin any thought down. What the hell _was_ it he needed to tell him?

"Stella said you wanted to speak to me. What did you want to tell me, Tony?"

Tony was about to shake his head then remembering what happened the last time, gave a small shrug instead. "Sorry…can't remember."

Gibbs didn't say anything for a moment, and Tony knew he was giving him a chance to gather his thoughts.

"Why don't you start at the restaurant."

He swallowed, but it wasn't because his mouth was dry. The night it happened, the meal he'd enjoyed in the restaurant, it all seemed a lifetime away.

"I was flirting with the waitress…" he smiled nervously, but Gibbs didn't comment. "Anyway, her dad was polite enough but he made it clear I'd outstayed my welcome, so I left."

"Were the men who attacked you in the restaurant?"

He remembered the lasagne. It was the best he'd had. But the people who'd sat at the red and white chequered tables were unrecognizable, their faces merging into a fog as pain sparked behind his eyes obscuring the memory. He grimaced, his hand shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's okay. You don't need to do this now, Tony." Gibbs told him gently.

"My head still hurt from the fall," he continued as if Gibbs hadn't said anything, "so I wasn't paying much attention. I screwed up, Boss. I didn't know anyone was following me until I got to the car…" He felt his eyes go moist, but he wasn't going to cry. Big boys didn't. Not even when they were beaten to a pulp. Not even when they were tortured to within an inch of their life.

Gibbs pulled out his PDA and placed it into his good hand. "Is that them?"

Tony stared at the faces of the men who'd tortured him and his heart skipped a beat. A hard ball of ice took its place making it hard to breathe, constricting his throat so tight he couldn't make a sound…

"Tony…_Tony._"

As Gibbs insistent tone snapped him back, his vision was obscured by beads of sweat rolling down his face. He blinked them away to find Gibbs staring at him, worried.

"I'm getting the nurse…"

Tony grabbed his arm as he rose to his feet. "No…I _need_, I have to do this."

He was aware the room was starting to spin but he willed it to stay still. After a moment it steadied, but he didn't know how long he could keep it at bay.

"It's them. They…they thought I'd been spying on them, they took it in turns…" he raked his eyes down his beaten body and winced, "you know the rest." He was filled with something. Embarrassment, shame, he didn't know exactly what, all he did know was he couldn't look his boss in the eye. He feigned interest at the IV snaking out his hand and tried to keep his voice calm, but inside he was trembling. "At some point one of them left…don't know when…and Rocky was left to take care of _business. _I nicknamed him Rocky because they didn't give their names and -"

"He liked to use his fists…I get it, Tony." Gibbs finished for him, his bland expression not fooling him for an instant. He could tell by the firm set of his jaw the boss was angry. Sympathy he couldn't have handled but anger was good, that more than anything gave him the will to finish the story.

"Anyway, I must have blacked out. When I came to Rocky was begging for his life – then I heard the gunshot. I thought I was next, Gibbs…" His lips felt as if they had been glued together. Tony tried to reach over to get the cup of ice but his hand was shaking. Gibbs got it before him and spooned some into his mouth.

"Did you see the shooter?"

Then it came to him. The thing that had been bothering him since it happened. He turned to his boss. "I remember…it didn't make sense. Still doesn't."

"What was it, Tony?"

The room was spinning, spiralling out of control. Darkness was wavering. Gibbs' face fading in and out, but he needed to finish. His Swiss cheese brain might not remember the next time he came round. "I played dead hoping he thought I was…"

"Who was it, Tony?" Gibbs encouraged in a low persistent voice.

"I should have thanked Rocky for doing such a damn fine job 'cause he walked away. I lay there trying not to breathe, waiting until it was safe. When I heard his footsteps in the distance I opened my eyes...He looked like a cop, Boss, but the shoes were wrong -"

"Tony!"

Gibbs pressed the buzzer panicked, as he watched Tony's face go slack and slump to the side. Stella reached them in an instant and moved him aside.

He stood by helpless, for the second time in two days. The relief overwhelming when Stella nodded, signalling he was going to be okay.

This time he didn't bolt. He'd made Tony a promise he'd stick around till he was ready, and he wasn't gonna let him down.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	14. Chapter 14

**Many thanks again to everyone who reviewed. It takes a long time to put a story together, and it's your comments that make all the work worthwhile.**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 14**

Ziva had been waiting on tenterhooks along with McGee but when the call from Gibbs finally came, it was Tim who grabbed for his phone first.

Gibbs was not a man who engaged in prolonged conversation, but from Tim's responses it quickly became clear he would not be returning anytime soon. What was not apparent from his monosyllabic replies was the condition of their team mate.

It had been a long time since anything shocked her but when she and Abby visited him in the hospital, Ziva had not expected Tony to look as bad. In hindsight, the crime scene at the warehouse should have prepared her…

Abby, who normally chatted away, had just sat there her eyes filled with unshed tears. She on the other hand knew her wise-cracking partner was in there somewhere, but the eyes that could mock and smile with equal measure were swollen shut. His rugged, handsome face barely recognizable under all the bruises. Ziva wanted revenge. Wanted to kill the men responsible in the slowest most painful manner possible, but both were denied her. All she was left with was rage and the fervent hope Tony would soon recover and return to the desk opposite. She would even tolerate his practical jokes – at least for a while.

"On it, Boss. And, Boss, when Tony wakes up again…tell him we're asking for him." McGee looked thoughtful as he replaced the phone on its cradle. "Tony identified Williams and Brownlee as the men who attacked him. Gibbs asked him about the shooter and he said something about it being a cop, but passed out before he could get any details. He's going to hang around till Tony wakes up again." He paused for a moment then gave her a meaningful look. "Gibbs said one of the guys Williams placed, a Seaman Wallace, was found dead. It was reported as an accident..."

"But Gibbs does not believe in coincidences." She finished with a wry smile. "I interviewed him." Ziva vividly remembered the tall young sailor with the auburn hair, "I recall he was bordering on the arrogant. He answered my questions, but his responses had clearly been prepared in advance. I could tell he was involved in some way but unfortunately I could not break his story…at least not in a monitored interview room."

"Yeah…that was strange huh? Funny how they _all _had air tight alibis," Tim huffed sarcastically, "but if Gibbs is right, then this might be the break we've been looking for."

"Gibbs is rarely wrong and if he was murdered, there must have been a reason," Ziva surmised, "I know his financials were clean the last time you checked…but it may be worth having another look."

Wallace's bank account appeared on the screen. On cursory examination nothing stood out, then both of them noticed the anomaly at the same time. Last month he'd paid ACME insurance nearly half his month's salary. McGee immediately placed a call to the insurance company. While he was talking, his eyes lit up.

"And he made the purchase when? Yes that _is_ a nice car…and yes I agree it sounds like a very good deal. Me? No, I don't need any insurance at this time but thanks for the information." He let out a low whistle. "Either Wallace won the lottery or we've finally managed to tie him to the robberies. He paid a cool $55,000 for a new Corvette before he was deployed."

"It would appear so…unless a seaman's salary has greatly increased in the last few years." Ducky quipped as he appeared at McGee's desk. "Where is your illustrious leader?"

"He is still at the hospital, Ducky." Ziva explained. As the ME's face wrinkled in concern, she answered the question before it was asked. "Tony was able to give Gibbs some information, but lost consciousness before he could finish. Gibbs decided to stay with him. He hopes Tony will be able to tell him more when he wakes up."

"I have no doubt Gibbs pushed him a little too much, but I'm glad to hear that his memory is returning. I also hope the results of the autopsy I have just carried out on Seaman Wallace will help bring this unsavoury matter to a close. Our young sailor was murdered. I am quite sure his attacker hoped the fall would hide his handiwork, however there was no mistaking the indentation on the back of his head. Even with the resultant trauma caused by the fall, it was clear the fatal blow was made by a tool of some description."

"It was a monkey wrench, Ducky." Abby supplied the answer as she turned up to join them. She took the controller off McGee and brought up a 3D image of Wallace's skull. "A hammer would have caused a round dent, but see the two impressions here?" She pointed to the screen. "Big give away – _Huge_! You get me the wrench, and I'll be able to confirm it as the murder weapon." Abby grinned as she put her arm round the coroner's shoulders and give him a squeeze. "The killer thought he was smart but we're smarter – right, Ducky?"

It was good news but Tim grimaced. "Looks like I'm going to need some of your sea sickness tablets, Ducky."

"Do not worry, McGee, I will take plenty of bart bags."

"It's _barf_ bags…and _thanks_." Tim narrowed his eyes and gave her a tight smile.

As McGee went with Ducky to get his supplies, Ziva felt her dark mood start to lift. With the new lead came hope. She could not punish the two dead men who were responsible for Tony's injuries, but finding the person behind the operation would need to suffice. With luck she _might_ even get him alone before the formalities were concluded…

ooooOoooo

As the cobwebs fell from his eyes and the room once again came into view, Tony wondered how long he'd been out this time.

He didn't remember dozing off. There was a dim recollection of Gibbs asking him _something_ but his mind was a blank. Tony hoped it wasn't anything important. Come to think of it, where was Gibbs? The chair by his bed was empty, but he could have sworn the boss had been there while he'd slept. He dismissed the idea as crazy. Gibbs was way too busy to waste time babysitting him.

His chest was still tight and sore but as his breathing was easier and he no longer felt like he was locked in a sauna, Tony felt a little more human. A yawn escaped and without thinking he stretched. "Ow!"

"I'd try to avoid that if I were you." Stella appeared by his side, wincing in sympathy. "Your stitches are healing, but any kind of movement is going to be painful."

Tony wanted to add that his face hurt too, but decided to pass. Stella was cute and he didn't want to come off as a wimp. Besides, the fact he was more aware of the dull pain thrumming through his body told him they were cutting down on the meds. Part of him was pleased, he hated the way strong narcotics messed with his brain. On the flip side he wasn't looking forward to the next few days, weeks, or however long it took for the heavy bruising to fade and his ribs to mend.

"How'd you like to sit up for a bit?" Stella smiled but didn't wait for an answer as she palmed the controller and raised the head of the bed past the slight incline he'd lain in since he'd first woken up. The room swayed slightly and his stomach lurched at the movement. For a split second he wanted to change his mind, but once in his new position the dizziness settled and being able to look around without turning his head made him feel a little more human.

The nurse handed him a cup with a straw. His hand shook slightly as he took it. Stella stood back, merely watching as he helped himself, only stepping in to take it back once he was finished.

"Thanks," The small act of independence made him feel better, plus he was relieved his voice was less raspy. It still didn't have his normal volume but at least he no longer sounded like an invalid. "When did Gibbs leave?"

"He didn't…You gave him a scare passing out on him like that, but it was hardly surprising. He shouldn't have pushed you, Tony."

"I passed out?" He raised his eyes, questioning.

"You suffered a small seizure." She frowned as her face grew serious. "I know you don't want to disappoint him, and I'm guessing you want answers as much as he does, but you've suffered a massive trauma. You need to give yourself time to heal."

"Yeah…" He said sadly, already starting to get worn down by the constant throbbing behind his eyes.

Stella gave him a small smile as she straightened his sheets. "He's a good man and there's no question he cares for you, Tony, but I know men like Gibbs. Sometimes they get so focused they forget others aren't as strong as they are."

"Where is he anyway?"

"He went for a coffee break…Oh, he's coming back now." Stella turned and nodded towards the doorway.

Gibbs wasn't alone. He was chatting to a man with straight, brown hair. Tony couldn't hear what was being said, but it was clear there was some serious hero worship going on. The guy was hanging on Gibbs every word. In fact, he looked familiar. As an image flashed of the guy talking geek, then drawing him a look because of something he'd said in reply, Tony realized he knew him. His name was another matter….When he saw Gibbs nodding in his direction and watched the guy coming towards him, his headache notched up as he struggled to remember what it the hell it was.

"Hi, Tony. Sorry I've not been to visit before now. How are you feeling?"

Trying to get his brain and his mouth in gear to work together was proving to be a problem. "Fine…better…Err, where did Gibbs go?"

"He's gone to speak to Vance…not _gone_, gone…but you aren't allowed to use cell phones in here."

Vance…In his minds eye he saw a black guy wearing a designer suit who liked chewing toothpicks. He didn't intimidate him, but he wasn't someone you wanted to get on the wrong side of either - the director. Tony was pleased that he managed to put the pieces together, but was no closer to finding _Mystery Guy's_ name. Suddenly realizing he'd missed a lot of what the guy had been saying, he used a diversionary tactic. "How is everyone?"

The guy stopped midsentence, leaned back in the chair and went quiet for a moment. "Abby's missing you…" _Dark hair gathered up in pony tails or braids. Sweetest punk with the widest smile he'd ever meet._ "She came with Ziva while you were still intubated. She's coming in to see you later."

Ziva…He racked his brains as two women came into his mind. Both had killer figures and dark hair, and both could cut a man to size with a sharp retort. He felt a connection to each of them but by process of elimination he placed the name he'd just been given to the woman with the foreign accent. Ziva was an Israeli, and worked at the desk opposite. She was his partner, but who was the other woman?

Then out of the blue, it came to him. The guy's name rhymed with a cartoon character he used to watch as a kid. Tony grinned with relief. "Thanks for coming, McGoo."

He could see the guy bristle and wondered why. The name sounded right. In fact he was sure he'd used it before.

"McGee…Go home and get some rest. If Ziva's still working call and tell her to do the same. I'll interview Solomon in the morning." Gibbs instructed, arriving as silently as he'd left.

McGee. First name - Tim. As it fell into place Tony wondered why he'd thought it was McGoo.

"Nite, Tony. I'll see you later." McGee stopped and turned round as he reached the end of the bed. "Anything you want? I could bring you a tablet loaded with some movies?"

The thought cheered him, even if he didn't think he could stand watching anything for long at the moment. He sent him a small smile. "I'd like that. Thanks, Tim."

"No problem…get well, Tony."

Gibbs didn't sit down. He kept standing, watching him as he drank his coffee, saying nothing. He remembered Gibbs wasn't big on small talk, but the staring was creeping him out. "What is it? Have I done something wrong?"

"You…no. Me - you scared the crap out of me, DiNozzo. I want answers but not at the expense of your recovery. Don't let me push you beyond your limits, Tony. I thought I'd damn well killed you."

Gibbs' face was filled with remorse. Rule number six came to mind and Tony knew that in his own way Gibbs had just apologized. "I won't, Boss…I want answers too."

In response Gibbs merely nodded, finally taking the seat vacated by McGee. "So…can you remember anything else about the shooter?"

Tony went quiet for a moment allowing the memory access. "He was wearing cop's clothes…but his shoes were Gucci. I have a pair like them at home. He was about my height with light, brown hair, but it was dark in there and by the time I'd looked up he was too far away for me to be certain."

"Good job, Tony." Gibbs drained the last of his coffee before getting to his feet. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too, Boss…you look beat."

Gibbs chuffed a laugh. "Yeah…might just do that."

"Boss…who's Solomon? He is a suspect in the case?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow, now get some sleep." Gibbs drew him a look that brooked no argument, and Tony knew he wasn't going to get any more answers today.

"That's all I do,"

He knew he was whining but he was getting fed up being treated like an invalid, even though he was exhausted already. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open when he remembered something and called the retreating figure back. "Gibbs…"

"What is it, Tony?"

"When's Kate coming to see me?"

ooooOoooo

TBC.

I hoped you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!

As it's my birthday this week and I'm going away for a few days, I'm afraid that after today I won't be able to either reply to reviews, or update until the end of the week. In the meantime enjoy the rest of your week, and take care! Joanie.


	15. Chapter 15

Many thanks again for all the reviews – and the birthday wishes! Sorry for the wait, but I hope this chapter will be worth it…

**THE END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 15**

Tony's lapse of memory had ripped open an old wound and after a sleepless night, Gibbs was tired and grouchy.

He hadn't forgotten Kate. How could he? But in order to survive, keep his sanity intact, he'd pushed the memory aside to join all the others he'd failed to save. Shannon, Kelly, Jenny, Mike Franks…

Bringing their murderers to justice wasn't as satisfying as he'd hoped. Bottom line, you couldn't bring back the dead. At least he'd been spared from answering the question, but the devastation on Tony's face as the memory resurfaced had been painful to watch. He hadn't stuck around after that. Didn't think either of them would want that type of conversation.

Outside the interrogation room he put on his game face before opening the door. He didn't look at Solomon. Didn't even acknowledge his presence until he sat down and pushed a picture of the murder weapon across the table. "You didn't make a good job of cleaning it. We found your thumb print and traces of Wallace's blood still on the wrench."

Petty Officer Solomon paled slightly, but it was the only sign he was spooked. The guy had balls, merely shrugging at the accusation. "I barely knew the guy… so why would I want to kill him? Anyway, every one on the ship has access to the tools. A lot of people use that wrench." He muttered without changing his expression as he pushed the picture back.

Gibbs stopped it with his hand. He left it on the table but took another picture, one of Wallace lying in the morgue, and held it in front of his face. "I've checked your records. When you were fifteen you did a spell in juvy."

"Yes, Sir, I'll admit I was a screw up as a kid but I cleaned up my act. The marines…they changed my life."

Gibbs listened to the stocky marine's _touching_ story. Most marines did felt that way, but it was a sad fact every branch of the military had its share of low-lifes. The marines were no exception.

"Is that what the two of you used to talk about after lights out?" He registered a slight flinch in the brown eyes before Solomon assumed his bland mask. "I checked. You and Wallace were in the same detention centre at the same time. You were also _both_ recruited by Lt Williams within months of each other. Tell me, Marine…how much convincing did it take for you to get your hands dirty again!"

Solomon's lips tightened into a thin line. He said nothing but his mutinous expression did all the talking for him.

"I know about the robberies. The Enterprise was in port when two of them were carried out. In the transcript of your original statements you and Wallace provided an alibi for each other. That was a real nice thing to do for someone you _barely_ knew." When Solomon didn't comment, Gibbs sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "Let me tell you what I think. I think you were all told to hold off, wait until the heat was off or better yet – when you'd left the corp. But Wallace decided to break the rules…didn't he? He'd got all this money and was itching to spend it. He might have got away with it too but a seaman driving around a brand new corvette draws a lot of attention, attention your boss didn't want." Gibbs leaned forward, and locked eyes with him. "You screwed up, Solomon. If you'd done the job right, we might never have made the connection. We already know it was Lt Williams who signed you up for this sweet deal. Tell me, did you kill him…or was it the same guy who gave the order kill to Wallace?"

"Lt Williams is dead? I don't…I _don't_ understand."

"What don't you understand? That Lt Williams is dead or that he has a son who's going to grow up without knowing his father?" Gibbs spat out.

Complete and utter shock covered the young man's face, then he clammed up. Up till now he hadn't been able to link up the dots but his bluff about Williams' connection had paid off. Still, he hadn't expected his reaction. He was starting to get an inking something was off so decided to change tack. "Show me your hands."

Solomon was still looking shell shocked but as the request sunk in, he visibly tensed. For a moment Gibbs thought he would have to drag up the limbs himself, but after a long moment the marine produced first his left for inspection.

Abby had found two blood samples on the wrench. One belonged to the dead man but he needed one more piece of evidence to make this a slam dunk. He already knew the guy wasn't a lefty so wasn't surprised to find the hand undamaged.

"Right…" Gibbs nodded toward a large dressing stretching along the palm of his hand to the soft tissue between his thumb. He watched with satisfaction as a flush grew up from the guy's neck. "Looks nasty...Wonder what time the records show you went for treatment?"

"I caught it in my locker…"

"Sure you did…" He jumped up and got in the guy's face. "It wouldn't have taken much force to kill him, but you wanted to make sure the job was done right. Thing is, Marine, you hit him so damn hard the wrench dug into your hand, cutting it. We have you for murder, Solomon...but it is for one, two…or maybe even three! If _you _didn't kill Lt Williams or Captain Brownlee tell me who did. If you co-operate, who knows. You might, just might, get out of jail while you can still walk."

Beads of sweat were rolling down his pale face, but still the marine said nothing. Gibbs wanted a confession, but more than that he wanted answers. He grabbed his files and rose to his feet. "Fine…it's your life."

Solomon stopped him before he reached the door. "Okay…I admit it - I killed Wallace. We warned the SOB to cool it, told him to wait. He only had eighteen months then he could have done whatever the hell he wanted with his money…But I didn't kill Lt Williams – he was good to me. Good to all of us. As for captain Brownlee, I never met the guy, but yeah…they worked as a team. The Lieutenant put the teams together while Brownlee set up the jobs."

He'd got Wallace's killer and some of the answers he was looking for, but he needed to know one more thing before he could tie up this part of the investigation. "Who gave the order for the hit?"

Solomon's eyes went wide and he reached for the glass of water on the table, swallowing it in one gulp. "I know you're not going to believe this…but it's the truth."

"Spit it out, Marine. Leave it to me to decide whether I believe you or not."

"It was Lt Williams…"

ooooOoooo

Muted voices floated from a flat screen anchored to the opposite wall and McGee's lap top lay unopened on the cabinet nearby, but the man in the bed stared aimless into space. Tony couldn't even be bothered making conversation and at the sound of approaching footsteps he closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

"I had to pull in a lot of favors to get you this room, so you might show some appreciation. I know you're awake, Tony…You can stop pretending." Stella whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his cheek.

Apart from a window with a view of a garden beyond, Tony couldn't understand why four magnolia walls surrounding a hospital issue bed was so special, but Stella was cute so he looked round and forced a smile on his face. "Thanks, Stella…nice garden."

She was standing beside a wheelchair, smiling. "Glad you think so. I thought we could pay it a visit. The forecast is dry and sunny and now your fever's gone, the fresh air will do you good."

He didn't wanna go. Didn't want to do anything except go home and lick his wounds in private. He didn't even try to fake enthusiasm he didn't feel. "Thanks…but no thanks. I hope you don't mind but I'm really tired." He made the point by snuggling his head into the pillow, but stopped sort of closing his eyes when he saw the smile change to disappointment.

"Maybe tomorrow?" He offered as an olive branch.

"Today's my last day…in fact, I officially went on leave a few minutes ago. I was hoping to get to know you a little better before I got deployed. Never mind. I guess I can give the picnic basket to someone else."

Stella's wide eyed puppy dog expression was so similar to the ploy he used, Tony couldn't suppress a smile. "Well we'd better not let it go to waste then," he winced a he pulled up to a sitting position, trying to see what was inside the basket. He sniffed appreciatively. "Do you have any pizza in there?"

The nurse took a quick, furtive glance around then winked. "No, of course _not_…you're not allowed any. It's pepperoni." She whispered, grinning.

"Well what are we waiting for…let's go!"

The garden _was_ pretty. It was a new addition since he'd last been there, the once small paved area now extended with decking to take it up to the edge of the outdoor car park. Large tubs of vibrant flowers and an assortment of tables and chairs in bright colors surrounded an oval fish pond. As she wheeled him past, Tony could just about make out a large orange and black carp coming to the surface for air. He liked fish, and hoped his would still be alive by the time he got home. Stella guided his chair up to a bright green laminate table, and took the matching chair opposite. As he watched her set out their lunch he felt the gloom start to lift. It was a nice day, and Stella was pretty. He started to enjoy himself.

"I haven't seen Gibbs for a couple of days. I hope he's catching up on some sleep – the guy looked beat." Stella muttered in-between eating bites of her tuna salad.

Tony doubted that very much. In fact he often wondered if Gibbs _ever _slept. The boss was there when he arrived at work in the morning and was still at his desk when he left at night. If he wasn't at the office, he was down in his basement working on the boat. Gibbs had missed out on both while he'd been spending time with him. He missed him but Tony couldn't blame the guy for taking a break. Especially after what he'd said the last time…

The pepperoni slice turned to dust in his mouth. He discarded the remainder, no longer hungry. "I think that's my fault."

Stella stopped chewing and looked at him.

"I said something really dumb. Actually, it was more of a question…" He felt color flood his face and wished for a big, black hole to open up so he could dive in. Tony didn't even know why he'd started to talk about this, let alone to someone he barely knew, but it was clear from her expression she wasn't going to let it drop.

"Gibbs doesn't strike me as the type of guy who would give up on anyone, Tony…least of all you. Tell me what you said. Look, after today you don't have to see me again, unless you want to. Think of it this way - I'm cheaper than a therapist." She added with a small smile.

He started to squirm, his chair suddenly becoming restrictive. "I want to go for a walk."

As he struggled to his feet Stella was already by his side ready to take his arm. There was no chance he could storm off. His legs were like rubber. So he accepted the support with as much good grace as he could muster, and they set off at a slow pace down the path towards the children's play area.

After a few steps the trembling stopped and he felt a little stronger. It made him feel better, more normal, although Tony conceded he wouldn't be running any marathons for a while yet. He wondered if he could avoid the conversation, then realized he didn't want to. The guilt had been gnawing away at him since it happened, and Stella was right. It was easier to talk to someone who wasn't close, although Tony hoped that would change when she got back home again.

Without looking at her face, it made it easier to start. "When McGee came to visit I recognized him, but couldn't remember his name. I didn't let on and decided to stall by asking how everyone was doing. I figured that way I could find out more…I also wanted to see if I could put names to the faces in my memory. Anyway, he mentioned a few people, and the names fell into place with the picture I had of them in my brain but, there was someone he didn't mention. I didn't say anything. I didn't want him to find out what I'd been doing. It was only after he left I remembered her name - Kate. I knew she worked with me, but that's where it got fuzzy. It didn't make sense as we only have one female agent on the team and that's Ziva."

"So you asked Gibbs…but Kate's dead, isn't she, Tony."

He could feel tears sting the back of his eyes but kept them at bay. Damn his Swiss cheese brain. Damn it to hell. He swallowed, but his voice still came out thick as he replied. "She died right in front of us. Just before it happened we'd been laughing at something…then a sniper's bullet blew half her brain onto my face. I shouldn't have forgotten her. It's no wonder Gibbs can't stand to be around me."

Stella gently pulled him to a stop and came round to face him, taking both his hands in hers. "Did you love her?"

He struggled to remember. "No…we didn't have that kind of relationship. I used to drive her mad, but she dished the snark right back. When…when I got sick with the plague she pretended to have it too so she could stay with me. She risked her life, helped keep me alive."

"I'm sure you had her back too, Tony. That's what partners do."

"I suppose…but of all the things to forget -"

"Now stop right there, Mister - none of this is your fault. You came in more dead than alive. It's a miracle you're still here, and I've known patients less injured than you were who never get their memory back. Yours is returning and you're getting better with every day. Besides, Kate doesn't sound like the kind of person who would bother."

He huffed a laugh. "_Kate_ would have got mileage out of it for weeks! But…I suppose you're right." He smiled, remembering fondly the woman he used to work with.

"And Gibbs knows what you've been through better than anyone." She continued in a soft voice, her brown eyes boring into his. "You probably brought back bad memories for him, but he'll be back, Tony. He's not the sort of man to let a careless remark keep him away for long."

Suddenly he staggered, only Stella's strong grip stopping him from literally hitting the deck. "Sorry…felt a little light headed."

"It's me who's sorry. I shouldn't have kept you on your feet for this long. Come on. Let's get you back in the chair."

The short walk back seemed to take forever and he was shaky and exhausted by the time he sat down. He hated being the focus of attention, but was too tired to object as Stella fussed, finally guiding him back towards the hospital.

Just before they reached the door her cell beeped as a text arrived. "Darn…well they'll just have to wait until I get you back to your room." She frowned, muttering under her breath.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to sign off a report." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I need to report to the office before I leave."

Over the years as both a patient and in the course of interviewing witnesses, he knew the layout of the hospital quite well. "Isn't the office just along from here?"

She nodded. Tony knew she would object to what he was going to suggest, but he forestalled her by giving her a wide smile. "Go, sign your report, I'll be right here in my trusty chariot when you get back. In fact take your time. It's a long day being cooped up in that room – especially as you won't be there to keep me company."

"I can't…What if -"

"Go!" He mock frowned, waving her off. "If anyone says anything, I'll tell them I tried to escape. Trust me when I say they _would_ believe me."

Indecision warred across her pretty features. "Fine...I'll only be gone a minute, but if you do try to escape I _will_ hunt you down."

"Now you're putting ideas in my head." He grinned, and Stella shook her head laughing as she walked away.

It was getting warm, and worn out by the short outing Tony felt his eyes grow heavy. He started to doze and allowing sleep to pull him under began to dream.

He was chasing down a suspect. He couldn't see the guy's face, but the shoes he would remember for the rest of his life. Then he heard Stella scream. His eyes sprang open and with her voice still ringing in his ears he realized he was moving – fast. Helpless to do anything as his chair picked up speed towards the parking lot, racing into a collision course with an oncoming car…

ooooOoooo.

TBC

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to all the kind folks who reviewed! Your support is much appreciated.**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 16.**

His life didn't flash before his eyes, but his heart was pounding and his mind racing as he faced up to meeting the grim reaper.

There was no steering on the chair. It was either throw himself out and hasten the inevitable, or pray for devine intervention. There was no time to do either besides, what would he ask? Beg for his life? That wasn't his style. Tony settled for closing his eyes knowing it would hurt like hell, but hoping it would be quick...

The sound of screeching tyres and burning rubber assaulted his senses. Breathless, Tony waited for the pain to hit but suddenly the chair jolted and he lurched forward. Instead of crashing into the tarmac - or cold hard metal crashing into him - a vice like grip pulled him backwards, and the chair juddered to a halt.

"DiNozzo! What the _hell_ are you doing? You nearly gave me a damn heart attack!"

"_Gibbs_?" Tony blinked trying to take in what had just happened. As Gibbs' angry face swam into view it slowly registered it was his car that had swerved to avoid him. He'd not only braked in time, but raced out and stopped the chair dead in its tracks. He had to hand it to the guy. Gibbs might drive like a maniac, but his reactions were razor sharp. If anyone else had been driving…

His mouth was dry, his brush with death leaving him relieved but shaken. Tony took a deep breath to steady his nerves before replying. "It's Stella's last day…we went for a picnic."

"In a _parking_ lot?" Gibbs slowly shook his head, staring at him as if he was a moron but Tony could tell the boss was as freaked out as he was.

"Tony! Are you alright?" Stella bent in front of him, all smiles gone as she checked him over with trembling hands.

"Where were you - _nurse. _This man was in your care, you had no business leaving him alone!"

"Don't blame Stella, Gibbs. I told her to go. Truth was I wanted a little time to myself. I must have fallen asleep as next thing I knew I was in my very own roller derby. Can't say I enjoyed the ride much, but hey…I'll never say anything about your driving again." He quipped, trying to relieve the tension.

Gibbs got down on his hunkers and started examining the chair.

"The brake was on, Special Agent Gibbs," Stella volunteered, "I made a point of checking before I left."

"Well something happened. It didn't run away by itself." Gibbs rose to his full height in one fluid movement. "Tony, did you see anyone? Hear anything?"

At first the question didn't register, then the dark cloud came back to rain on his parade as the implication sank in. "No, and before you ask, I didn't notice anything suspicious."

"Stella. Did you notice anyone hanging about?" Gibbs gave the nurse a searching look.

"There was no one about when I went inside. I suppose there could have been any number of people when I came out, but to be honest all I could see was Tony's wheelchair running into the parking lot."

"Maybe the breaks failed." He suggested, clutching at straws. The truth was he didn't want to consider the alternative. Couldn't believe that his nightmare was running into a sequel - someone still wanted him dead.

"Yeah…_maybe_." Sometimes it wasn't what Gibbs said, but what he _didn't_ say that mattered. The boss didn't believe it was a brake malfunction anymore than he did. Tony felt sick to his stomach, and it was nothing to do with his concussion.

Stella got to her feet, but kept a protective hand on his arm. "Gibbs, I'd like to get him inside as soon as possible. I don't think he's hurt, but I want to check him over properly and I can't do that here."

"_He_ is sitting right here…and for the record - I'm _fine_."

Stella drew him a look, and glanced at Gibbs. "Is he always as stubborn as this?"

"You have _no_ idea…" Gibbs' mouth twitched slightly as he guided the wheelchair back up onto the path. "C'mon, DiNozzo, let's do what the lady said."

ooooOoooo

Tony was protesting at all the fuss but Gibbs wasn't fooled for a second. He could read his senior field agent like a well worn book. DiNozzo was hiding behind the act to hide how shaken he was. The fact born out by the minimum of resistance he gave Stella when she started checking him over.

Gibbs admitted to himself there was a lot of that going around. He tried not to show his anxiety as he stood in the background with his arms crossed, waiting for Stella to finish. Tony had squeaked as he'd jolted the chair back and he hoped he hadn't hurt him. Then again, he'd been low on options. If he hadn't stopped when he did, Tony would've fallen into the road. Still, the fact he didn't have a choice wouldn't make him feel any better if he'd accidently broken Tony's already cracked ribs.

The swelling in his face had gone down, his eye now fully open if a little bloodshot. But while his bruises were healing their yellowy-green color only served to make Tony look sicklier than ever. How much of that was down to today's adventure, he didn't know. At least he was alive. Gibbs would never have forgiven himself if he hadn't braked in time – accident or not.

"I _don't_ want a sedative."

"But you _need_ one. You had quite a shock…_we_ all did." Stella muttered under her breath, her own color having fled leaving her look uncharacteristically pale. "And your blood pressure is way too high for my liking. Look, Tony, I know how much you hate taking drugs but this is just something to help you relax." The nurse fixed him with a determined stare as she handed him a couple of tablets and a glass of water. Tony glared back, mutinous.

"_Take_ the damn pills, DiNozzo." Tony flinched and his eyes widened as he caught his boss watching him with thinly veiled impatience. He wasn't on duty, but like the good agent he was, immediately followed the order. "Now get some rest. I've a few calls to make but I'll be back to see you later."

"Gibbs…_thanks_."

"For what?"

"You saved my life. If it had been anyone else behind the wheel…I would've been road kill."

Gibbs shrugged slightly, knowing there was more than gratitude on Tony's mind. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Tony…I promise."

"One more thing." Tony mumbled, his voice trailing away on a yawn. "Where have you been the last couple of days? I know I screwed up the last time -"

Gibbs tried not to let the hurt show on his face. "I did come to see you, but it was late and you were asleep. Tony…you didn't screw up. I should have stayed to explain, but mentioning Kate like that kinda took the wind from my sails. None of this is your fault – understand? Now get some sleep."

As he watched Tony drift off he nodded to Stella. She gave her ex-patient a peck on the cheek, gave the sheets a final tweak and followed him into the corridor.

"How is he?"

"Tough as old boots." She said, smiling slightly. "The jostling he took aggravated his injuries a little. He'll be a little sorer tomorrow, but no real harm done. Thanks to you he'll be fine."

The relief was palpable and he felt some of the tension start to ease off. "I'll need a statement from you."

Her smile vanished. "I expected as much. You don't believe it was an accident, do you?"

"No…I don't."

Stella's face fell as she glanced over at the man in the bed. Tony roused slightly, saw her looking and gave her a tired smile. She returned it, before turning back to Gibbs. "Take care of him, Gibbs."

"I will…"

Stella had barely left when he pulled out his cell. "Ziva, I want you over here now."

"_Where exactly is __**here**__, Gibbs? You did not say where you were going."_

"The hospital…Someone's just tried to kill Tony."

ooooOoooo

"Is that _it_?" Gibbs drew his tech expert a look as the grainy footage of the parking lot security tape ended. All it showed was Tony's chair careering down the side walk and into the path of his car, something that was already ingrained in his memory. There wasn't a sign of anything else, specifically no clues as to who was trying to kill his best agent.

"Sorry, Boss, that camera only covers the parking lot but take a look at the sidewalk. It only has a slight incline. Even if the brake was broken Tony's wheelchair shouldn't have moved as fast at that. He was pushed."

Gibbs peered at the screen, and frowned. Part of him had hoped it was an accident, but he wasn't surprised to have his suspicions confirmed. "Yeah...What have we got from the other cameras?"

Tim took the controller and brought up four different recordings, each taking up a section of the screen and showing different angles of the hospital. The two men watched as a steady stream of people entered and left. Some were clearly visible as staff, others either visitors or patients. No one stood out, and none of them were instantly recognizable as being connected to the case.

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Check the tapes again…He must be in there somewhere."

"Who, Boss?" Tim asked, puzzled, then his eyes darkened as the answer registered. "You think the shooter from the warehouse tried to kill him, don't you. But why? Didn't he leave Tony for dead?"

"He did…"

"But now he's tying up loose ends."

McGee's stark statement reinforced the dangerous situation Tony was in. Gibbs felt his gut clench. Tony was just starting to recover. There was no way he could begin to put this behind him with the nightmare still going on.

"I'll send the recordings to Abby." Tim continued. "If she can clean them up, the facial recognition software might be able to identify anyone connected with the case."

He was depending on it. Gibbs left McGee and headed down to the lab. He was more tired than he wanted to admit but given this latest wrinkle, it would be a while yet before he got a decent sleep.

It had been a crappy day, made worse by another development in a case that had more twists than a rollercoaster. He'd foolishly believed with Williams and Brownlee dead, Tony was out of danger. Now he realized that the man in charge was aware they were closing in on him, and he wanted the only witness dead. Why he hadn't killed Tony first time around Gibbs didn't know,but he would make damn sure he wouldn't get another chance to finish the job.

Abby was sitting back on her heels working on the wheelchair when he walked in. Immediately she jumped to her feet and ran towards him, gathering him into a bear hug. "Gibbs! Thank goodness you were there! Is Tony okay?"

"He's fine, Abby."

He wasn't relaxed enough to melt into the hug but if she sensed it, she didn't let on. Instead he gave her a gentle clap on the back. It did the trick, and Abby released him. "Man…he was lucky it was you behind the wheel. If it had been anyone else…"

"It wasn't…and he's really okay, Abs." He spoke softly, but his nod towards the chair made it clear he wanted her back on track. "What have you got for me?"

"Too _much_. I mean, do you know how many sets of prints I've got from this so far?" She rattled on, only stopping when he raised an eyebrow. "No, of course you don't. Well I have seventeen at the last count, and that doesn't include yours."

"I need _something,_ Abby."

She gave him a sad smile. "Of course you do, and I'm going to work all night if I have to. I won't let you or Tony down."

He went over and planted a kiss on top of her head. "You never do, Abs."

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please - I'd love to know what you think of this latest development!


	17. Chapter 17

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 17.**

There was a seat by the bed but Ziva chose to stand by the window. It allowed her easy access to her weapon, plus it was the best position to watch both the doorway and the corridor that lay beyond. In any case, she preferred to keep a little distance between them. The terse silence was becoming uncomfortable. When she first arrived Tony had been asleep but since waking up a short while ago he had said little, keeping eye contact to a minimum.

While it was impossible to know everything about a person, she had partnered Tony for so long Ziva believed she knew most of his hidden depths. It now appeared she was clearly mistaken. This was a Tony she had never seen before. A Tony that unnerved her.

Over the years she had seen him angry but even when his ire was directed at her, he always spoke - even if she didn't like what he had to say. After he broke up with Jeannie, he became quieter than usual. For a long time he wore an air of sadness mixed with guilt, a feeling she knew only too well. He lost himself in the job but despite his pain he'd remained pleasant, hiding behind the mask of the clown, a role he played to perfection. This type of silence was out of character then again, this time the pain was different…

Ziva knew only too well how it felt to be tortured. The abuse she suffered under Saleem had been so much more than skin deep. Protracted, systematic violence was not just about causing pain. The main purpose was to tear away every layer until it laid bare your very soul leaving it raw and vulnerable. She was also well aware that recovering from the painful injuries inflicted was only the beginning. Right now Tony would be feeling the helplessness that followed the euphoria of being rescued. Being restrained against your will, unable to defend yourself, was a feeling that did not sit well with a soldier. Or a cop.

Gibbs and McGee each played their part, but it was Tony who had initiated her rescue. She owed him her life, but even she could not help him now. Ziva was angry. Until they caught who wanted him dead her partner would not be able to move on, make peace with what had happened. The healing needed to come from within. From her own experience, Tony was the only one able to heal himself.

Ziva recognized the nurses in the ICU, but the staff who worked in this ward were unknown to her. When a male nurse appeared with a dinner tray, she approached him at the door and carefully checked his credentials before allowing him inside.

"Where is Stella?"

"Stella's been deployed." Tony answered without looking round.

"She was nice, I liked her. I also believed she liked you too. Will you be seeing her again?"

Tony shrugged and winced. "Don't know…maybe."

After the short answer the silence came crashing back. When twenty minutes later the food remained untouched, Ziva couldn't hold her peace any longer.

"You need to eat something, Tony. If you do not eat, you will not regain your strength."

He slowly turned his head round and gave her a tight smile. "First you stick your nose into my love life, now you want to play den Mother! You have it…I'm _not _hungry." He pushed the tray towards her, nearly spilling the orange juice.

She did not know what a den Mother was, and in his current mood was not about to ask. Ziva bit back the retort that he was always hungry, deciding instead to use one of his favorite methods of changing the subject – deflection. "How _is_ your memory?"

With the subject of food off the agenda, he seemed to relax slightly. "Patchy. I feel like Sam Beckett in Quantum Leap. Some memories are as clear as day, while others..." He let out a long sigh. "The doc says most of them will return. But hey, if they don't how will I know?" Tony made a face and gave a mirthless laugh.

"What is this Quantum leap? I do not recall a film of that name."

"It was a TV series – sci fi." At her puzzled expression he explained. "Science fiction, little green men…anyway_,_ the show was about a guy who took part in an experiment that went wrong. He was supposed to jump into the body of other people from his past timeline and return home but of course, it didn't work out that way. Instead he lost a lot of his memory in the first leap and never made it back. It was a cool show with an eerie vibe going on in the background. Turns out there was an unknown force driving him on. His mission - to put right what had gone wrong before." Tony finished the description with a flourish, mimicking Picard's voice over at the start of Star Trek.

Ziva liked the Next Generation, but Tony was the last person she would share that piece of information with.

"Ah…I understand. This show is like the Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

"No, no, _no_. Quantum leap was _nothing_ like the Body Snatchers." Tony sighed, and exasperated dug his spoon into the green jello. Ziva hid a smile. "My point is Sam lost his memory. It only came back in bits and pieces."

"Well I am _sure_ you will remember what you need to. There are times I wish I could forget some of the things in my past…"

"Damn it - Kate!" Tony sat up straight and let his spoon fall, clattering against the side of the bowl.

Her heart sank. Tony did not need to deal with any more pain. Especially the anguish he must have suffered watching his former partner die in front of him. "You do know that Kate -"

Tony glared at her. "My _goldfish_ is called Kate. She hasn't been fed in days. I meant to ask someone…Hell, she'll probably be floating belly up in the bowl."

"You called a fish after your dead partner!" She rounded on him, her earlier concern forgotten. "But do not concern yourself, I took it upon myself to check up on your apartment. I saw _Kate_. I have been going back every day to feed her_."_

"Thank you. And for the record it was Kate who bought me the fish. I can't remember why. Knowing her it was probably some kind of joke. She was like that." Tony flopped back against the pillow, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ziva felt the color rise in her face, guilty for jumping to such an unkind conclusion. She decided against an apology. Not because she was too proud. It was simply too painful a subject to continue.

"I did not know you played the piano."

Tony cracked open an eye and peered at her through a half closed lid. "Neither did I."

"You have a beautiful piano that has pride of place in your apartment."

He scrunched up his face in concentration, then broke out in a smile. "So I do. Mom used to sit and listen while I took lessons with Miss Granger. At first I hated being kept in on a Saturday morning, but I soon began to enjoy it because of the way she watched me while I played." Tony went quiet for a moment, picking at his sheets. "Afterwards we would go to the movies…good times."

"Perhaps you will play for me one day." She asked softly.

"Ziva, I know why you're here. Gibbs thinks he's going to try again."

"He does not believe what happened was an accident. I do not believe you do either."

Instead of answering Tony picked up his fork and played with the food on his plate, eventually taking a bite of the meatloaf. He grimaced. "This really is bad. How about you order us some take out? After all, this _is_ technically a stakeout." He looked up with that pathetic puppy dog expression he used, and Ziva shook her head, but couldn't suppress a smile.

"Very well, but I get to choose. And if it does not agree with your stomach – it will be your own fault."

Tony grinned, and beyond the bruises she saw a glimmer of the man she knew. It might take a while but he was going to be alright. She was sure of it.

ooooOoooo

Abby's face fell when he walked in the room. "I'm sorry, Gibbs, there were only a few viable prints from all those I lifted from the chair. I didn't get any hits."

"Not your fault. The shooter hasn't made any mistakes so far. Anyone that careful probably wore gloves." He was more than disappointed, but not in Abby. He handed over the large Caf-Pow he'd brought with him.

She stepped back and put her hands up, refusing to take it. "No…I don't deserve that – yet. But I will in a minute." Abby went back to her monitor, and an image of someone he recognized flashed onto the screen.

"That is Commander Ferris. Lt Williams' boss, right? Don't you have him under surveillance? Anyway, he has a cute kid."

"_Yeah_…and I do. Thanks, Abs." His brain was working overtime as he began to walk away. He was stopped by a loud, forced cough.

"My Caf-Pow?" Abby asked, giving a slight nod towards the drink still in his hand.

Gibbs smiled despite himself. He retraced his steps handed it over, then whispered in her ear. "Good job, Abs."

A loud noise Abby called music followed his departure from the lab, but Gibbs barely noticed. He punched in the number of the agent tailing Ferris and while the information he received wasn't a case breaker, his gut told him something was off.

The hospital had a record of the commander arriving with his daughter. The kid had suffered a fall. While he stayed with her through most of the visit, the staff on duty could not account for his whereabouts while she was having an MRI. They also found no trace of anything wrong with her. Not even a bruise.

By his reckoning, that would have given him more than enough time to carry out the attempt on Tony's life. Gibbs was aware it was circumstantial at best but with nothing else to go on, it was the only game in town. How he was going to prove it was another matter.

Back in the bull pen the artificial lighting had got brighter since he'd been downstairs and a glance out of the window showed dusk was falling. Ziva was still with Tony. There hadn't been any further attempts and no suspicious sightings, but he intended to relieve her himself as soon as he grabbed some coffee.

Tim was slouched over his desk. McGee looked beat. Gibbs was proud of them but wanted this freaking nightmare over. Tony needed closure so he could start to heal, although his attack had impacted on everyone. They all needed some downtime for rest, recuperation but most of all to reflect on what had happened. He hoped it came sooner rather than later.

"Go home, McGee. You can report to the hospital first thing in the morning. And, McGee…don't forget to bring my coffee when you come."

Tim glanced up, bleary eyed. "You sure, Boss? I don't mind staying. I'm still trying to figure who used Williams' email. The account wasn't closed down after his death so any one who worked there could have used it."

In response Gibbs gave a small shrug. "Sounds like a dead end. Anyway, it'll keep till tomorrow. See you in the morning, McGee."

"Nite, Gibbs…"

Tim retrieved his badge and gun, and before long Gibbs was the only person left in the office. He sat for a moment trying to work out his next move when he sensed a presence nearby.

"Special Agent Gibbs, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time. When Matthew started crying I decided to take him out for a walk. I…I don't know why I ended up here."

Marie Williams was standing at the edge of the bullpen. Her gaunt face looked frozen, her hands gripping the handle of the stroller so tightly her knuckles were white. The woman looked as if she could drop anytime. He came over and guided her into a chair.

"Would you like a coffee? Some water?"

She shook her head, her lank blond hair sticking to the side of her face. "No…no, thank you."

Ziva and Tim had paid her a brief visit after her husband was found dead. It was clear she knew nothing. Her house was standard naval accommodation. They didn't have an expensive car. Even the furniture was low end. Nothing in the house signalled any sign of ill gotten gains. Gibbs was pretty sure she was an innocent in all this and wondered what prompted her to come and see him.

"What can I do to help you, Mrs Williams?"

"Is it true, Agent Gibbs? Did my husband torture your agent? I know Simon had a temper, but he…he wasn't really a bad man."

There were times he hated scuttlebutt. He was the first to admit it could be a useful source of information but on occasions like now, all it brought was pain. Regardless, he wasn't going to lie.

"Your husband and Captain Brownlee abducted Agent DiNozzo in the belief he had information about the burglary ring they were running."

"Oh." Instead of looking shocked, tears sprang to her eyes and began rolling down her face.

He grabbed a box of Kleenex lying on Ziva's desk, and waited in silence until she composed herself.

"I don't know what to say. As far as I knew Paul was just a friend. I'm so sorry, how is your agent?"

There was genuine remorse on her face, even though there was no reason for her to apologize. Gibbs liked her. Marie Williams was a nice lady. "He's going to be okay."

"I'm glad. Tell me, Special Agent Gibbs, was he the one who killed my husband?" She swallowed, and dabbed her eyes. "If he did, I could understand."

"No, Special Agent DiNozzo wasn't responsible. Look, your husband deserved to be punished for what he did, but we wanted him to stand trial. You have my word, Mrs Williams. I _will_ bring his killer to justice."

Marie Williams rose to her feet, checked on the child sleeping in the stroller then extended a hand to him. "Thank you. I needed to hear the truth but as to what I'm going to tell him." She glanced at the baby and her eyes grew moist again.

"You'll tell him his father loved him. He doesn't need to know any more than that for a long time." Gibbs noticed the large oval diamond surrounded with sapphires adorning her ring finger. He wasn't an expert, but having purchased a few baubles in his time could tell it was worth serious money. More than that it looked old, antique old, and a vague recollection of a picture in a police report sprang to mind ringing alarm bells. "That's quite a ring. Is it a family heirloom?"

She glanced at it with disinterest. "Funny, when Simon's boss, Commander Ferris, stopped by a few months ago he said the same thing, but it's imitation. Simon bought it from one of those auction sites."

He didn't believe that for a second, but wasn't going to make an issue of it until he got more evidence. Marie Williams was a good woman. She didn't deserve what had happened to her any more than Tony did. She was still young, pretty and Gibbs hoped she would find the happiness she deserved.

"Can I give you a ride home?"

She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "Thanks, but I need to clear my head. Just get the man who did this, Special Agent Gibbs, for _his _sake." She adjusted the covers around her son and looked up just the lift door shut, hiding her from sight.

Ferris was behind it, he was sure of it. It was the only thing that made any sense.

It now became clear that when he'd visited Williams' house and saw the ring, just like him, he'd put two and two together. Gibbs suspected Ferris had guessed Williams was running his own sideline from the jobs he'd masterminded, but the guy was no fool. He'd waited, got the proof he needed, realized that Brownlee was also involved and only then did he make plans to kill them. On the night they'd abducted Tony from the restaurant with suspected Mafia connections, it must have seemed like a heaven sent opportunity.

He had to hand it to him. Making the killings look like a mob hit. Dressing up as a cop so he could enter the warehouse unnoticed, was smart. But he was no slouch either. He would get him. It was just a matter of when.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Many thanks again to all those who reviewed!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter too and please review.


	18. Chapter 18

**Many thanks again to the lovely folks who took the time to review! Unfortunately I can't reply directly to those who reviewed under the guest banner, but someone asked me a few questions so before we begin the next chapter I'll do my best to oblige!**

**1. How did the guy know that Tony survived? Answer - 'Mr Big' has masterminded this huge network so it wouldn't be hard for a guy with these contacts to find out about Tony.**

**2. What hospital Tony was at? Answer - The same as above, plus it would make sense for an NCIS agent to be treated in a navy hospital.**

**3. How would he be at that spot at the exact moment? Answer - Well, I don't want to give too much away, but sometimes an opportunity just presents itself. If he hadn't made his move in the parking lot, he would have done it elsewhere!**

**4. Does a naval commander make enough to buy Gucci shoes? Answer - Tony has expensive tastes and he's an NCIS agent! But anyone making big bucks by running a robbery network would easily be able to afford whatever he wanted.**

**5. Has the team checked to see if Stella was, in fact, scheduled to deploy? And where? Under whom? And who her previous COs were? Answer - I would say that everyone surrounding Tony would have been checked out, but Stella was just a love interest for our boy. I figured I'd been so nasty to him, he deserved a little respite!**

**Thanks for the questions! And I'm happy to answer anything - provided it doesn't give away what happens next. Speaking of which, on with the story...**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 18.**

"It's time to remove your stitches. What's more comfortable, Tony? Do you want to lie on your stomach, so would you prefer to sit?"

While the nurse pulled on a pair of latex gloves he considered his options. He didn't relish either. He couldn't remember how many stitches they'd put in his back, but for sure this was going to take a while. It would also hurt. Then again, lying on his stomach would put too much pressure on his damaged ribs. He considered asking for a shot of rum like they did in the movies, but thought better of it. "I'll sit, thanks."

He clenched his jaw, trying not to flinch as the nurse helped him out his pyjama top. Normally he was a sweats and tee guy, but with his back stitched up like a crazy quilt he didn't want to even think about how painful it would be dragging a top over his head.

When he'd first been admitted he was either out the count or too sick to care, but it didn't take long before he'd hated the revealing hospital gowns with a vengeance. Unexpectedly it was Gibbs who came to the rescue. Tony didn't peg him as a pj guy either, but when he handed over a set, he didn't care about cool. Except the cold breeze he'd no longer get in his nether regions. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask where they came from. He didn't. It didn't matter. Besides, he doubted Gibbs would tell him.

He hadn't seen his back yet. Didn't need to. He'd had a front row seat when the whipping took place and remembered only too well the excruciating agony as his skin was torn to shreds. Tony was the first to admit he wasn't usually the retiring type. Didn't usually mind others seeing him shirtless. This time, knowing what a mess his back was in, he was embarrassed.

Marlene, who'd been his main carer since Stella left, didn't bat an eyelid. She wasn't Stella. Certainly wasn't as cute. But the red-haired, middle-aged nurse was nice. Still, he missed her. More than that, he hoped she was safe. Their one and only _date_ had been screwed up, so he hoped to repay her with a nice meal somewhere classy when she returned to DC, unless someone else beat him to it. Stella was the real deal. Pretty, smart and funny. It was a trite expression but Tony was surprised she hadn't been snapped up before now.

The nurse checked the tray with the means to remove the sutures, then looked up with a smile. "Okay, Tony, I want you to shuffle your tush until you're sitting at the edge of the bed."

Tony hadn't heard it referred as that since his mom died, but Marlene waited patiently for him to do it himself. It was clear she knew he needed to assert his independence, gain some control back, and he appreciated that more than she would ever know. He was exhausted, drenched in sweat and tremors were rippling down his muscles by the time he'd got there, but he'd done it. The small victory made him smile.

"Good. Now I need you to hold as tight as you can to the edge of the bed and stay as still as you can. I'll try to be as gentle, but if you need a break, or start to feel unwell let me know."

Tony was struggling to get a firm grip with his broken hand. He managed to keep steady for the first few minutes, but hissed as a hot, sharp pain made him jerk forward. "Sorry… these dumb fingers can't grip properly. Is there anything else I can hold onto?" Tony glanced around the room. "How about that chair?"

The nurse examined the chair but shook her head. "It's too low. If you flinch like that again, you'd fall off the bed."

"What if he held onto my shoulders?"

Marlene's face lit up at the sight of Gibbs. "That's a great idea!"

"If it's okay with you I think I'll just lie on my stomach, Marlene." Tony muttered. He wasn't thrilled with the plan. He was uncomfortable enough. Having Gibbs watch his every reaction…

"Nonsense. You've already done the hard work to get there. With Gibbs acting as support, I'll get this done in a jiff."

"You ready, DiNozzo?"

He was watching for a smirk, even a flash of humor in the blue eyes but if Gibbs found his situation funny, he didn't show it. It would have been churlish to protest further so he reached up and placed his hands on top of his shoulders. "Thanks, Boss."

He didn't make a sound, but his jaw ached and he was shaky and nauseous by the time Marlene was finished. At what point Gibbs had reached out to support his arms, he couldn't remember. He was just glad to have the ordeal over with, not offering any resistance when the nurse helped him back under the covers.

"You did well, Tony." Marlene smiled as she handed over a cup of water. He was exhausted, and his hands shook slightly as he sipped it. The nurse waited until he was done before taking it away, and tweaking his sheets. "Try and get some sleep. The doctor's going to check up on you later. If he's happy with what he finds, you might even get out later today."

His back was still throbbing but the news made him perk up. "Seriously?" Suddenly the tiredness fled and he couldn't stop grinning. "Boss, could you get someone to pick up my clothes?"

"Already done." Gibbs plunked Tony's holdall on the stand at the foot of the bed. "Ducky spoke with your doctor this morning. Providing your exam checks out, you can get out of here."

The thought of some privacy, a chance to chillax in front of TV with a cold beer made his smile wider. He was pondering what movie to watch first when Gibbs burst his bubble.

"McGee will pick you up and take you over to my place."

"No thanks." Tony shook his head as he hauled himself up the pillows.

Gibbs eyes bored through him. "This isn't up for debate, DiNozzo. Someone is trying to kill you, and you aren't in a position to defend yourself."

"Gee…_thanks_ for the vote of confidence, but I'm still not staying at yours. I don't need babysitting. Sure, I'm the first to admit I'm not up to hand to hand combat but I can use a gun."

"_Tony_…"

"_No_. Look, I appreciate the concern but I've had more than enough of being a victim - I need to get my life back. Anyway, if Ferris thinks I'm alone he'll make his move."

Gibbs dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand that, but take a good hard look at yourself, Tony. You're in no condition to act as bait."

"I was strung up like a piece of meat and beaten for hours. While Rambo was flaying the skin off my back all I thought about was getting out of that warehouse alive. I can't get the men who did this to me, but I _**am**_ going to bring down their boss. I need this, Gibbs."

There was a tense silence before Gibbs eventually gave him a curt nod. "Fine, but you aren't doing this alone. There'll be someone staking out the building at all times."

Tony gave him a small smile. "I was hoping you'd say that. Thanks, Boss."

"Just don't make me regret this." Gibbs didn't return his smile, his reservations clear.

"I won't." The words tripped off his tongue but Gibbs was already at the door and he doubted he'd heard them.

Truth was he didn't feel confident at all. It was a front, a mask to cover how scared he was. Scared of returning to an apartment and finding things out about himself he couldn't remember. Scared of facing himself in the mirror, seeing his scars for the first time and knowing he would carry them for life.

Could he do this? Tony didn't know. All he knew was he had to try. If he didn't, they would have won. He'd survived but that was only the beginning. If he wanted his life back he needed to deal with his fears and face them head on.

OoooOoooo

"Clear…" Ziva stepped out the apartment but didn't holster her gun. She waited by the doorway, her piercing gaze taking in every door, shadow and bend of the hallway as Tony and Ducky made their way inside.

He knew Ziva was only looking out for him, watching his back, just like he would do for her if the situation were reversed but Tony wanted to be alone. He'd never admit it to anyone but his nerves were jangling, wondering how much he would remember about the place he called _home_. Ducky seemed to sense his unease. To avoid the anxious looks he was throwing him, Tony took the few final steps inside.

"I expect you are glad to be home, Tony."

Tony quickly glanced around. As the surroundings registered in his memory, he sighed with relief. "Yeah, Ducky…I am."

The short walk from the car had tired him out. Without saying another word he made for the couch, flopped down and grimaced as the careless movement pulled on his healing wounds. He was achy and exhausted, but despite the discomfort he felt good. Tony gingerly leaned back and closed his eyes, happy to have passed the first hurdle, only rousing, cracking open an eye when he felt his pulse being taken. "I'm fine, Ducky."

"You are much improved, Tony, but you are _not _fine." The medic paused his assessment and peered at him through the spectacles perched at the end of his nose. "I can well understand the desire to regain your independence but on this instance I agree with Gibbs. You are still weak, my boy, and it will be at least another few weeks before your body completely heals. It would be prudent to have someone stay with you, at least for a few days."

"I would be happy to stay." Ziva offered.

It was tempting to let someone take care of him, but even as the thought entered his head Tony knew it was out of character. Ever since his mom died he'd taken care of himself. He was proud of the fact he didn't need others. NCIS were the closest thing to a real family he had but, he still liked his own space. It was better for everyone if he kept a little mystery, especially when he was still recovering the last of his forgotten memories.

"Thanks, Ziva, but there's no need. I have my remote and all the local take out joints are on speed dial. I'll manage just fine."

Ducky screwed up his face. "Junk food is not going to replenish all the weight you have lost. In addition I hate to think of the amount of fat those meals contain. No, if you persist in this deluded enterprise I insist that you eat properly. I make a rather good chicken casserole, even if I do say so myself." The ME smiled, and glanced at his watch. "I have my bridge evening tonight, however I should still have time to cook some for you. I'm quite sure someone will be happy to hand it in before dinnertime."

It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but Ducky meant well. "Thanks, Ducky…I can't wait."

"Now, I would suggest you go for a nap."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but the medic put his hand up. "Let me re-phrase that. As Gibbs would say, it isn't a suggestion. **Go** to bed, Anthony, you are clearly exhausted."

"_Fine._" He made a face not caring he was acting like a kid, then grimaced as getting up was much harder than sitting down.

Ziva extended a hand to help him up but he said he'd be okay on his own, and he needed to prove it. Suppressing a grunt he hauled himself up. The massive effort it took shocked him a little and he stood a little unsteadily on his feet hoping he wasn't going to keel over and prove Gibbs right.

His team mate hovered, watching him. He knew that expression. She'd sussed him out. Damn.

"Do you need any help? I can take you to bed if you like." Her voice sounded sincere but from the glint in her eyes he knew she was teasing him.

"My dear, Ziva, we refer to it as _putting_ someone to bed. Taking someone…well, that has a different connotation altogether." Ducky said earnestly, blushing slightly.

"Don't make offers you aren't prepared to keep, _Zee-vah_."He drew her a look as he shuffled away. She smirked, but he didn't mind. It felt good to be snarking like this. Felt right. He wondered if that was the way they normally were, and hoped so. He was tired of being treated with kid gloves and for the first time in days he started to feel normal. When he reached the bedroom door he stopped and gave them both a fake smile. "I can manage fine from here. Thanks."

Ducky nodded, "Of course. Sleep well, Tony."

"I will be parked outside. If you need anything – call me."

Ziva gave him a small smile. It told him they were friends. Most of all it told him she trusted him to know his own mind, and didn't question his decision. Right now, that simple faith in his judgement meant most of all.

ooooOoooo

TBC

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.**

**On the subject of reviews, as I've mentioned before, writing is a solitary hobby. I'm the first to agree that it's a hobby I enjoy but I'm not a professional. I don't get paid. Plus if I don't receive feedback it's like performing to an empty theatre - how do I know if people are enjoying the story? BTW, I know some people feel uncomfortable about leaving reviews and I totally respect that, however even the simplest comment makes my day. Thanks - Joanie.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks so much for all the reviews! I'm thrilled so many of you are still enjoying the story, and I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know.**

**Now, we left Tony fending for himself. How is he getting on?**

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 19**

The noise was faint but Tony woke with a start, grabbed the gun from under his pillow and was standing, listening by his door with more speed than he'd believed possible in his present condition.

Someone was there. They were trying to be quiet but the soft footfall sounded like a big bass drum to his heightened senses. He guessed the intruder was in the kitchen but Tony couldn't be sure. His palms were sweating, so he tightened his grip on the weapon and eased the door open a crack. Barefoot, the cool wooden floor sent a chill up his spine. Shivering, he wished he'd grabbed his zipper top but there was no going back now. Gun raised, Tony edged his way through the apartment until the intruder was in his sights…

"_Gibbs!_ You nearly gave me a heart attack – I could have killed you!"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was lounging back on the couch reading the paper. He looked up, unfazed. "Not bad, DiNozzo, but if I was here to kill you…you would've been dead by now. I've been here nearly fifteen minutes."

He knew Gibbs was pissed about his insistence at staying alone so let the comment slide. Suddenly exhausted, Tony shuffled over to the kitchen, put the safety back on his weapon and laid it on the counter.

"Coffee?" He asked, already knowing the answer before Gibbs nodded. His rude awakening had left him sluggish and with a pounding headache. Tony racked what was left of his brains trying to remember where he kept it. After three attempts he found the right cupboard, the coffee standing next to a packet of Oreos. He sniffed the packet wondering when he'd bought them. They smelled okay, so he took them out to offer to his _guest_.

Gibbs was watching him and shirtless, Tony felt self conscious of the red, raised healing wounds on his back. Considering the beating he'd taken they didn't look as bad as he'd expected. The doc had assured him they would fade to thin silvery lines over time, but there was still no mistaking what had caused the damage. Tony was struggling to know what to say but Gibbs spoke first. "I didn't know you could shoot with your left hand."

"While I was working in Baltimore I broke my hand in a department soft ball tournament. You know me, I was bored being stuck at a desk so I spent hours at the firing range learning to fire with my left."

Gibbs came over to join him at the counter. "How accurate are you?"

"I wouldn't risk doing a William Tell, but I can usually manage a decent chest shot."

Gibbs gave him a small smile. "Not bad. So, did your captain let you off desk duty any earlier?"

Starting to relax Tony returned the smile. "No, he was a stickler for the rules. Still, it's come in handy now." He glanced at the two broken fingers of his right hand still bound together and the smile faded. "Don't take this the wrong way it's nice to see you, but why didn't you ring the buzzer first?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You walk into my place unannounced all the time."

"Yeah, only because you don't lock the door _and_ you're usually down in the basement," Tony shook his head, "Forget it. Has any more evidence turned up on…"

"No..."Gibbs took a swig of coffee, "but I _know _it's Ferris. He's not stupid, Tony. He's killed two men and arranged a third murder without leaving any evidence. I don't want you to be number four."

He was tired of this argument and wasn't prepared to get into it again. Tony noticed a brown paper bag on the opposite end of the counter and peaked inside. "Is this Ducky's casserole? Smell's good. Do you want to share?"

The look Gibbs gave him told him the boss knew he was avoiding the discussion, but was going to let it drop – for now. "Sure, why not. Sit down before you fall down. I'll get this. Besides, I doubt you even know how the stove works."

He did. He used it to heat leftover pizza. Not exactly mind blowing stuff, but he did at least have a working knowledge of all the equipment in the apartment. Tony was about to say so, but as he watched Gibbs getting busy it wasn't worth arguing about. Anyway, he was beat. After a moment of indecision he shrugged and gingerly eased himself onto the couch.

"Have you heard from your dad yet?"

Tony felt the familiar hurt and anger build up inside. "I haven't heard from him in years. Why would he bother calling me now?"

Gibbs stopped what he was doing and turned round. "Tony…you met up with your dad a few years ago. He spend last Christmas with you."

His heart sank. Gibbs was looking at him with concern and he couldn't stand it. Worse, he was struggling to remember any of it.

"I called him when you were admitted to hospital. Okay, it took a couple of days for him to get back to me, but as soon as he heard you were ill he wanted to come and see you. By then you were out of danger. I know how things are between you. Knew you wouldn't want him around until you felt up to it, so I said you'd call him." Gibbs came over to stand in front of him. "I told you a couple of days ago, Tony."

He couldn't remember. "I'm going back to bed. Let yourself out when you're ready."

"What about the food?"

Tony shrugged. "Take it home. I'm not hungry. I'll order something later."

"Tony, you heard what the doc said, your memory is going to be patchy for a while. Everything is going be fine – just give it time. Now come and get something to eat."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks for stopping by and tell Ducky thanks."

"_Tony_…"

He didn't like ignoring Gibbs but he needed to be alone. His stomach was churning by the time he got to the safety of his room. He barely made it to the bathroom in time before he started to retch.

His head was bursting and his ribs burning by the time he sat back spent, his head relishing the cool feeling of the tiled wall against his skin. When was this nightmare going to end? When would he finally be able to get his life back – including his past? Tears of frustration welled up and for once he let them flow. Only when he heard the front door close did he pick himself up and went to sit on the edge of the bed. The cell lying on the cabinet seemed to mock him. It had to be done so he checked his contact list and dialled the number. His mouth went dry when the call was answered on the third ring.

"Hi, Dad…how's things?"

ooooOoooo

McGee looked up questioningly when Gibbs got into the passenger seat of the car. He'd been parked down the road from Tony's building since Ziva left. "Is everything okay, Boss? Is Tony all right?"

Was he? Gibbs wasn't so sure. He didn't answer the question. "Report, McGee."

"The only people coming in and out have been residents. The scheduled garbage collection took place this morning, but as the trash is located on the outside none of the men entered the building."

Gibbs nodded. He was about to take his leave when his cell rang.

"_Is this Special Agent Gibbs? It's John...the bum you bought a meal. You said I should call if I had any information." _

The voice was hesitant, but he recognized it at once. John had been caught using Tony's credit card during the time he was still missing. He'd taken him to a diner to interview him. Gibbs wondered why he was calling now. "It's me, John. The only person I remember is a marine who'd hit hard times. Are you okay?"

There was a slight pause before the former marine spoke again. _"Thanks, Gibbs. I should have called before, but I well...I hit the bottle again."_

"Well, you've got my attention now. What did you want to tell me?"

"_I witnessed a murder. I'd missed curfew again but wasn't bothered – it was a nice night. Sky was full of stars. Anyway, I was woken up by the sound of gunfire. I knew it wasn't a backfire, you never forget that sound…I edged closer and hid behind the brush, saw him tying up the body. I nearly shit myself when he looked up. At first I thought he'd seen me, but he went back to what he was doing and threw the body into the water. The guy was wearing a top coat, but I could make out the uniform underneath. He was Navy, Gibbs."_

"John, I need you to be honest with me. Were you drinking when it happened?" Gibbs held his breath. If John was drunk when the killing went down, his statement would be worthless.

"_No, up till then I'd been sober for months. After he left I ran away like a freaking coward till I had a bottle in my hand. I'm not proud of myself, Gibbs."_

"Could you identify the shooter?"

"_The guy was forties, maybe fifties, about six feet with sandy hair. It was a full moon that night and I could see everything. He killed a man in cold blood and treated the body like a piece of trash. I want to help, Gibbs. I'm ashamed of what I've become but men like him…they disgrace the uniform."_

The description fitted Ferris to a tee. It was the break in the case he was looking for and Gibbs couldn't get out the car quick enough. "Stay where you are, John. I'm coming to get you."

ooooOoooo

The short conversation with senior unlocked some of the more recent memories. What mattered most was the knowledge his dad genuinely cared.

Afterwards, Tony managed to catch up on some sleep. He smiled when he realized he was actually looking forward to catching up with the old man. Started making plans what they would do when he came to DC next month. Feeling better, more refreshed than he'd done in some time he risked a careful shower. Not long after the hunger pangs let him know he was ready to eat.

Despite what he'd said Gibbs had left the casserole untouched. He opened the lid but the now congealed chicken was clearly off the menu so he reached for the phone. Just as he was about to order pizza, he remembered the last lasagne he'd eaten. His stomach growled in anticipation as he sourced the number and made the call.

Less than thirty minutes later his cell rang. _"Have you ordered take out?"_

Tony went over the window and grinned at the unseen driver of the car parked down the street. "Jealous, McGoo? I would invite you up to taste the best lasagne in the city but you've got a job to do."

"_Bite me…"_

Tony's grin got wider. "_Sorry. _Did you say you want me to save you a bite? 'Cause I'm very hungry. There might be some left…then again, there might not."

He heard a long sigh on the end of the line. "_She should be at your door any minute. Don't forget to check the hallway before you open the door, and lock up afterwards."_

"Yes _mom_…"

At the sound of the buzzer he looked out the peep hole. It was Carla. He opened it in a flash.

"Hi! I didn't know you did deliveries. If I did, I would have called a _lot_ sooner."

Carla smiled as she handed over the container. It vanished as she took in his fading bruises. "When I saw your name on the order I decided to come myself. What happened to you, Tony?"

He was enjoying her company and didn't want to get dragged back to a dark place. "It was a dumb accident, anyway I'm fine now. So how are you? Has your dad got you fixed up with a suitable husband yet?"

The distraction worked as he'd planned. Carla made a face and rolled her eyes. "You have no idea! Let's just say my father's idea of a good match and mine is a _long_ way apart."

Tony laughed. It was the first time he'd laughed since the beating and his jaw ached from lack of practice, but it felt good. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a twenty. "Thanks, Carla, it was good seeing you. And don't give your dad too hard a time. He's only looking out for you."

She shrugged. "I suppose." Carla went to hand over the change but he shook his head. "Nah, keep it. Like I said before it was nice seeing you again."

"I wanted to check out where you lived." She winked, grinning. "See you around, Tony. And don't let dad stop you visiting the restaurant. His bark's worse than his bite."

He doubted that very much, but said nothing. Mindful of security he didn't wait to watch her leave and immediately locked the door. The only thing on his mind now was hunger as the delicious aroma set his taste buds watering. He'd barely sat down when his cell rang. McGee's name was on the display and he let out a frustrated sigh. His meal was getting cold. What did he want now?

"I'm fine, McGee, I've locked the door and everything. What is it now?"

"Special Agent McGee can't come to the phone right now. Before you ask, he's still alive but whether he stays that way is entirely up to you."

While the vaguely familiar voice was speaking Tony walked over to the window. Darkness had fallen but he could make out the figure of a man standing beside Tim's car. His heart was racing and his mouth went dry. "Is this Ferris?"

"I'd prefer to make the introduction in person, Tony. I can call you that – right?" Ferris didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Don't even think about concealing a weapon, and don't hang up. We don't want Special Agent Gibbs rushing to the rescue." The man huffed a low gravelly laugh. "You're in no shape to try anything, but if you're foolish enough to act the hero know this, I _will_ kill Special Agent McGee."

Ferris was right about one thing, he wasn't in good shape. He wasn't about to die without putting up a fight either. First, he needed to make sure Tim was safe. "Don't have much choice do I? I have one question before I hand myself over."

"Just one?"

"Hey, I didn't realize you were up for a game of show and tell," Tony quipped, keeping his tone light while he searched the kitchen for what he was looking for. He had a knife hidden in the belt he usually wore but as his back was too tender to wear anything but track pants, that was a non-starter. When he'd bought the knife block he'd looked at the narrow two inch serrated blade puzzled. He was pretty sure it wasn't intended to kill a man, but that's what he'd do if necessary.

"Tony…I know your injuries have slowed you up, but for Agent McGee's sake I hope you're not stalling."

"I'm putting on my jacket. With my back the way it is that takes a while. I'd go out shirtless, but my neighbors know I've been ill. I'm pretty sure Gibbs has at least one of them spying on me, so if I leave the building like that they'll know something's wrong. Anyway, my question - how did you get McGee? Because we both know you don't leave witnesses, and why should I come out if you intend to kill him anyway?" Tony slipped the small blade inside his sock hoping it would go unnoticed. It certainly looked okay. He nearly forgotten he'd asked a question when Ferris resumed talking.

"You don't_, _but I have no reason to kill him as he didn't see my face. Have to say Gibbs trained him well. He didn't leave the car when the _drunk_ staggered against it, but the distraction gave me the opportunity to release a canister of gas under the car. It's both colorless and odorless. He didn't know anything was wrong until it was too late. But if you're concerned, Special Agent McGee will wake up with nothing more than a headache. Of course I can always change my mind if you don't co-operate. Now get down here. If you do what you're told I'll make your death nice and quick. If not…I don't agree with the methods my subordinates used, but it wouldn't pay to mess me about."

"I'm leaving now." Tony stopped by his landline and picked up his keys. As he locked the door he wondered if he'd ever return to his apartment again.

ooooOoooo

TBC

He really shouldn't have been so independant, now Tony's in trouble - again!

I hope you enjoyed this latest development and please review!


	20. Chapter 20

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 20**

Gibbs had arranged to meet John by the coffee shop. It was still light when the call came through, but now darkness had fallen turning the café with the large windows and bright lights into a peep show. A glance inside told him John wasn't there. Gibbs didn't blame him. The guy was already spooked and in the café it would be impossible to stay hidden.

He almost missed the figure hidden by the shadows, sensing more than seeing that someone was lurking. Quickly un-holstering his weapon, Gibbs kept it by his side. If any of his team went into this situation, in this part of town without back up, he would have torn a strip. Do what I say, not do what I do came to mind and Gibbs accepted his actions were hypocritical. Still, he was the boss and that gave him the right.

When John appeared from the alley, Gibbs sighed with relief. "Good to see you, John."

The ex-marine was thinner than he remembered. The dead expression in his weary eyes making them appear too big for their sockets. When John confessed his lapse Gibbs was worried what he would find but he was clean, and his clothes though threadbear, had been washed. Gibbs applauded him for that. It couldn't be easy keeping up standards living rough. It was clear this man was trying to find his way back.

"Hi, Gibbs."

"I've missed dinner. Do you want something to eat here, or will I get take out on the way." Gibbs made the offer for John's benefit, but as the words left his mouth he realized he was hungry.

"Not here," John glanced about nervously, then turned to Gibbs as his words sank in. "Where are we going?"

"The Navy Yard." Gibbs glanced up at the pale glow from the flicking streetlight and grimaced. "You can't make a positive ID in this light, plus I need a statement from you. Besides, until we have the guy in custody you're not safe."

John's expression hardened. "I know I screwed up, forgotten who I was for a while, but I've cleaned up my act. I was a marine. My moves might be a bit rusty but I can take care of myself, Gibbs."

"I don't doubt it. But you don't have a weapon. If the guy you saw is who I think it is you'll need more than your wits. He's already killed two men…and they were armed."

"I'll give you a statement and I'm prepared to testify in court, but I won't promise to hang around, Gibbs."

Gibbs shrugged. "Fine, the car's this way. What do you wanna eat?"

ooooOoooo

"Keep talking to me, Tony. When I hear your voice I know you can't raise the alarm, unless of course you _want_ me to shoot McGee?" Tony could hear the sick amusement in Ferris' voice and his gut clenched.

"Your goons cracked my ribs. Walking and talking at the same time is still a _little_ problematic so you'll need to excuse me if I'm not my usual chatty self." It was partly true, if an exaggeration. Tony crossed the fingers of his good hand hoping Ferris fell for it.

"That wasn't my idea. For the record, those two morons cooked up the plan to abduct you all on their own. If they'd used their brains they could have found out you were just having dinner. As it was they were expecting trouble…from me. They knew damn well they were doing something they shouldn't."

"As opposed to managing your burglary ring."

Ferris gave a small laugh. "That's only the half of it, Tony. My operation is much more lucrative than that. It started a few years back. A friend of an friend asked me to transport a painting he'd stolen over to his family in the Persian Gulf. That's when I found out how easy it was. After that, the world was my oyster. We steal to order for clients who are willing to pay top dollar for antiques not currently available in the open market. Working in the Navy, I have access to the best logistics in the world. The problem is Williams and Brownlee got greedy."

Ferris let out a long sigh. "They took things they shouldn't have, items that weren't part of the job. I'd suspected they were running their own operation for a while but when I saw Marie Williams' engagement ring, I knew. In addition they stole drugs from one of the heists. I don't deal in drugs. Apart from anything they bring down the kind of heat I don't want. Anyway, _no one_ steals from me or does anything that would draw attention to our operation. As soon as I'd confirmed what they were up – they were dead men. First I needed to know where they kept their stash. I arranged for them to be followed. On the night they took you from the restaurant it gave me the perfect opportunity to kill them, and put the blame on Vicente. I'd heard the rumors about his drug dealing so after that it was easy. Making it look like a mob hit deflected the attention away from me. You should have saw Brownlee's face when I turned up dressed like a cop. Seriously, Tony, it was priceless! Anyway, I killed the SOB, found the key for the storage unit and traced it to the right place. By the looks of things they'd been taking advantage of my good nature for a long time. There was more than I'd anticipated, much more, so I took their laptop and anything else relating to the organisation. My plan was to return with a truck, but your boss beat me to it."

"Why didn't you kill me at the warehouse?" It was a question that had been bugging him for a long time.

"Brownlee put up a fight and it took me longer than I'd anticipated getting the job done. By the time I put him out of his misery, I knew the security guards would be passing by any minute. I dressed as a cop just in case someone saw me but without a patrol car I couldn't have kept up the pretence for long. You looked dead. Under different circumstances I'd have made sure as I didn't know how much you'd found out, but with the clock ticking I couldn't risk getting discovered. When I heard you'd went missing I could have kicked myself however, I wanted to believe you wouldn't last long in your condition. I took my kid to the hospital as an excuse to look for you. Finding you dozing outside was pure luck, it saved me having to work too hard. Unfortunately your Guardian Angel arrived at the wrong time. You're a hard man to kill, Tony, but don't worry - I'll do it right this time."

His ruse had worked. Megalomaniac egotists like Ferris loved talking about themselves. Like a clichéd Bond villain he hadn't been able to resist boasting, assuming he would soon be dead. Tony had _other_ plans. He glanced at his watch. Tim had been on stakeout for a while now and by his reckoning it would soon be time for Ziva to take over. All he needed was to take his time and with a little luck, help would come sooner rather than later. Still, luck had been a very, very fickle lady up till now.

As he walked into the darkened street a cold breeze whipped his hair and he shivered. He hadn't met the figure standing by McGee's car, but the shoes were instantly recognizable. The closer he got, there was no mistaking Ferris was the cop he'd seen in the warehouse. Ziva was nowhere in sight. With no one around, Tony knew it was all down to him.

Tim was slumped over the steering wheel. In the dim light, he looked dead. "You'd better not have killed him."

Ferris raised his gun. "I haven't. I'm not a monster, Tony. I only kill when I have to."

"I'm not going until I check on him." Tony went to open the driver's door.

"Back off - unless you want me to change my mind. Now get moving. As this is your last ride you get to choose the car." The two men looked at each other, and Tony saw from the cold, hard stare the guy meant every word. He gave Tim one last concerned glance and started down the road.

"Won't a stolen car arouse suspicion? I thought you wanted to stay under the radar."

Ferris shrugged. "It's late. Anyway, if the owner does notice it's missing before morning by the time the cops make out a report both you and it will be long gone."

Tony was moving as slowly as he could, but the audible click against the back of his skull accompanied by the hot breath in his ear told him he'd just ran out of time. "Pick a car, or I'll chose one for you."

Tony nodded towards the sleek lines of the black Porsche across the road.

"Nice, but the trunk's too small. Unless you don't mind getting cramp."

_Great._ He would be travelling in the trunk. He fully expected Ferris to dump him and the car into the water. Then it felt like a light bulb went off in his brain as a plan started to form. "That one…" He pointed to old man Gibson's ancient Oldsmobile.

Ferris looked at him in disbelief. "Fine, if that's what you want – open it." He flung over a set of lock picks. Tony let them fall to the ground. "What I _want_ is to die of old age in my bed, preferably with a hot looking woman beside me. Failing that, I'd settle with sending you to hell before I join you. As that's not going to happen in the next few minutes I'm _not_ going to trash a perfectly nice car!"

"I was feeling sorry for having to kill you, DiNozzo, but now you've gone and pissed me off. Instead of a nice quick death, you'll be alive when this car goes in the water. Unless you quit stalling then I _might_ change my mind."

Tony didn't much care. The longer he stayed alive the better the chance he had of escaping. He snatched the tools from the road and started working on the lock. His broken fingers hindered his progress, but the trunk sprang open far too soon for his liking.

"Get in."

His bruises were fading but his body was still sore. Tony gritted his teeth and suppressed a grunt as he folded his stiff and aching limbs into the cramped space.

"Give me your hands."

"You've got to be kidding me. You want to tie me up in a locked trunk." Tony made a face as he rolled his eyes. "Who do you think I am? Houdini!"

"No, but you're an experienced NCIS Special Agent. I'm not going to make the mistake of underestimating you. Now, I can tie your hands, or pistol whip you – you decide."

This was a wrinkle to his plan he'd anticipated, but hoped wouldn't happen. He allowed his hands to be secured with a zip tie and flinched as the lid banged shut. It was pitch black in his small prison and the air was already getting thin. He willed himself to stay calm as the car picked away. Just hoping that old man Gibson's repairs were as shoddy as they looked…

ooooOoooo

Gibbs swallowed the last of his coffee as John finished his statement. The marine had easily identified Ferris as Williams' killer. Now he was able to give Marie Williams closure. Commander Ferris' capture would also mean Tony could start to put the hellish matter behind him. Pick up the pieces of his life confident in the knowledge that the man who'd tried to kill him was finally out of the picture. He picked up his cell to ask Ziva to join him in the arrest when David called him.

"_Gibbs, we have a problem. I arrived to fine McGee unconscious and when I went to check on Tony, there was no answer." _

"Damn it to hell!" Gibbs ground out, looking at his cell as if it'd bitten him. "How's McGee?"

"He is a little groggy, but otherwise appears to be fine. I have called the paramedics."

"_I'm fine…I don't need -"_

Gibbs cut through McGee's protests. "You'll let them to check you out, McGee – understand?"

"_Yes, Boss. Gibbs…I'm sorry. I didn't see anything. I should have figured something was wrong when I started to feel woozy."_

"We'll figure it out, McGee." Gibbs wanted to be angry at him, but the probie knew he'd screwed up. Right now there was no dressing down that would be worse than the hard time he was giving himself.

"Boss, if it's Ferris who's got Tony you might be able to trace him through his cell."

"You've just redeemed yourself McGee." Gibbs cut him off, and punched in the digits of the lab. He hoped Abby hadn't gone home early.

"Abs…I've got a job for you."

ooooOoooo

Cramped and sore it took longer than he bargained on to get hold of the knife and free his hands. Now all he needed to do was pop the hood and jump out before they reached their destination. It sounded easy. Of course, there were a few _minor_ details to deal with first.

One, his hands were numb after having their circulation cut off and it felt like he was working with boxing gloves. Secondly, he was a big guy stuck in a small, dark space and it was hard to move, let alone see what the hell he was doing. Last, but certainly not least, if he _was_ successful getting out, falling from a moving car was going to hurt big-time. Tony shook his hands to get the feeling back. He rid his mind of the negative vibes. If he wanted to live, he'd do whatever was necessary…

Just that morning he'd watched his old neighbor repair the back tail light. He was a nice old guy, but useless at auto repair. Tony was thankful for his lack of ability as the light moved at the first tap. A push later it fell out giving him a view of the road. They were on the highway, it wasn't busy but he couldn't risk jumping out now. If he had a flashlight he could have sent a signal. He didn't, so it was on with the original plan.

Using the knife he'd once dismissed as useless, Tony picked away at the lock. He recognized where they were heading. The car was turning towards the docks, leaving the traffic behind. If he didn't escape soon it would be game over. At least with a head start he would stand a chance.

With more desperation than vigor he poked and prodded until with a slight pop the catch released. There was no time to think, only to act and closing his eyes Tony jumped out the trunk hitting the road hard.

He rolled along protecting his head with his arms, but the sharp, slick pain as the tarmac bit into his skin almost took his breath away. He heard screeching as the car screamed to a halt, followed by Ferris yelling. It gave him the kick he need to shift his ass off the ground and run as fast as he could.

He was still weak and with adrenaline fading fast, he couldn't keep up his pace for long. To his left was the route to the warehouses and containers, to the right was the start of the park land. It was slightly further away and he guessed, hoped, Ferris wouldn't believe he had the strength to make it that far. It was a fair point. His body which had been sore before was now in agony, the new set of bruises he'd acquired making themselves felt. Now limping along he pushed himself forward, frantically searching for somewhere he could hide while he figured what to do next.

"This is pointless, Tony. I give you kudos for bravery, but this can only end one way. Tell you what, if you come out now I'll do it quick. But, if you make me chase after you..."

The sound of his voice spurred his weary legs onward for another half a mile until he was in the middle of dense scrub. It was dark, hard to tell if there was any poison ivy in the vicinity, but he was out of gas and out of options. He eased himself down on the ground using a large bush for cover. How long it would take Ferris to find him, he didn't know. All he knew was he wasn't going down without a fight.

A rustle behind him got him reaching for a sidearm that wasn't there. His heart in his mouth as a figure appeared from the undergrowth.

"I know you. You're Special Agent DiNozzo."

Stunned, Tony stared at the bum facing him. The guy dropped to his knees beside him and started looking around. "You have me at a disadvantage, Mr…"

"Caldwell, but call me John. I've just left your boss. Gibbs and someone called Ziva are looking for you. I don't suppose you have a phone."

Tony didn't comment on the obvious. That he would have used one if he'd had it. "'Fraid not. And as much as I appreciate the information, a guy out there is looking for me – not you. So I suggest you high tail it out of here before we both get killed."

"Can't do that, Tony." John said in a low, determined voice. "I've been running for too long. Would have kept on running if it wasn't for Gibbs. He's the first person in years to see beyond the grime and treat me like a human being, and he's worried sick about you. I might be out of practice, but once a marine always a marine. I'm not letting that bastard kill another man."

There were a million questions in his aching brain, but now wasn't the time. It was clear that nothing he said was going to make the guy leave and as he couldn't force him, it was time for a new game plan.

"Okay, John, when did you last see Gibbs?"

"At the Navy Yard. He wanted to keep me in protective custody, but when he got the news you were missing I took the opportunity to slip away."

He closed his eyes and groaned. This was _so_ not good. "You witnessed Ferris kill Lt Williams."

"I was too late to stop him, but yeah I've made a statement and I'm willing to stand up in court."

"_If_ you stay alive." Tony finished, and glared at the man. "You have to leave, John. We need you to testify and you can't do that if Ferris kills us both."

"Not going to happen. Anyway, he's coming."

Tony peered in the direction where John was looking, but he couldn't make out zip in the dark. He could however hear the sound of breaking twigs and the swish of branches as someone approached. It was too late to run, even if he was able to force his rubber legs much further. No, brains rather than brawn were needed if they were going to get out of this alive. It was time for some quick thinking.

He considered the man crouched beside him. "You witnessed Ferris killing Williams. Did he see you?"

"No, I was sleeping in my usual spot just over there," John pointed to an area about ten yards away, "but he didn't see me. At least I don't think so."

"Okay…I think I may have a plan to get both of us out of this alive, and take him down in the process – you in?"

John smiled, making his weary face light up. "Yes, Sir, Special Agent DiNozzo."

"First off, call me Tony. Next, have you ever been blind drunk?"

John flushed red. "Yeah, me and booze have been good friends for far too long. I'm sober now though. Aim to stay that way too."

Tony patted him on the back. "That's good to hear, John, but for now I need you to pretend it was the bad old days. Can you do that?"

"I suppose. What do you have in mind?"

Tony lowered his voice even further. "You, my friend, are going to give the performance of your life."

The trite statement rolled off his tongue but the words had more than a ring of truth to them. A lot could go wrong. If Ferris recognized John he would be gunned down on the spot. Even if he didn't know who he was it was still a risky plan and they could both end up dead. Then again, what choice did they have?

ooooOoooo

His tyres screeched as Gibbs swerved to a stop behind the Oldsmobile. The car looked abandoned. His gut told him they'd already gone but he and Ziva had their guns raised, ready to fire as soon as their feet hit the ground.

He signalled Ziva to approach the scene with caution. His agent answered his instruction with a curt nod, but the worry about one of their own was clearly visible in her clenched jaw, her tight, thin lips, and her fierce expression. Gibbs wanted to bring Ferris in alive. Past experience taught him that might not happen if Ziva had her way. He hoped she kept her cool.

Tony was her partner, and from the wordless interchanges that passed between them when they thought no one was watching, he sometimes wondered if they were more than just friends. He doubted it. At least he hoped DiNozzo was too smart to get involved with someone on his team. Ziva on the other hand was harder to read. Regardless of the dynamic of their relationship Ziva was protective of her own. Gibbs trusted her with his life, but not with Ferris'. She approached the front of the car, looked inside then shook her head. His attention was drawn to the missing tail light and as he reached inside the boot. His suspicions confirmed when he removed a small serrated knife.

"Tony was in here. I recognize the knife. It was in the block of knives I gave him when he moved into his apartment."

Ziva picked up the sliced zip tie. "He managed to free himself, but jumping out a moving car must have hurt. He was already injured, Gibbs. I doubt he could have gone far."

Silently he agreed, but the sound of gunfire pushed all thought aside as instinct took over and he ran towards the direction of the noise.

He'd barely motioned Ziva to take the left flank when a second shot rang out. It was even louder than the first and his gut twisted, knowing that more often or not a second bullet was used to make sure the victim was dead. Fearing the worst he made his way past a clump of bushes surprised to see John lying slumped on the ground, and Tony straddling Ferris. Pinning him down as he beat the crap out of him.

"Is he alive? He was only trying to help me when this piece of shit shot him." Tony's face was contorted with rage, but his eyes were bright with tears. He barely looked up before dealing Ferris another savage blow.

John began to stir, and groaned slightly as Ziva checked for a pulse. "He is alive, Tony. The bullet grazed his forehead but I believe he will be fine."

Blood was pouring from Ferris' nose, his face covered in bruises, but it was the glazed expression that told him the man had well and truly been subdued. Gibbs retrieved the weapon that was lying abandoned on the ground. Tony was going to land another punch when he caught his fist. "It's over, Tony. You got him."

Angry, DiNozzo stared at him. Sweat mixed with blood splatter from the wounds he'd inflicted covered his face. His knuckles were cut and swollen, and Gibbs flinched at the sight of the two twisted fingers that would need to be reset.

"You've got enough to take him down?" Tony asked, in a cracked breathless voice.

"With bells and whistles." Tony took in what he'd said, nodded, then sat back on his heels, exhausted.

Gibbs extended a hand to help him up, but as Tony went to take it his face contorted in pain and he collapsed on the ground. Horrified, he saw Tony put a hand to his side and looked up shocked when it came back covered in blood. "Sorry, Boss. Looks like he shot me after all."

Gibbs took off his jacket, rolled it up and put it behind his head. Next he pulled off his sweater balled it up, and pressed it against the gaping wound in his side.

"Is McGee okay?" Tony panted. His face was slicked with sweat, his body wracked with shivers.

Gibbs locked eyes with him. "He's fine. You will be too."

Ziva was staring at Tony. The color had fled her face but she was thankfully managing to hide her anxiety well. He caught her attention and mouthed instructions to cuff Ferris. The guy appeared to have lost consciousness, but he wasn't about to risk letting him get away.

She wasted no time in making up the short distance and roughly flipped him onto his stomach. Ignoring the low groans as she secured his hands behind his back with more force than it warranted. "I will go into the clearing and wait for the paramedics. It will save time if they know where to come."

He nodded in response. Ziva was keeping a lid on her emotions but he caught her looking at the amount of blood seeping through the tee and onto his fingers. He was bearing down on the wound as hard as he could but no amount of pressure was going to keep Tony alive for long. If he didn't receive medical intervention soon, he wouldn't survive.

Tony's eyes were glazed, unfocused. His pulse that had been rapid when he first arrived, was now weak and thready. Gibbs knew he needed to do something or his senior field agent was going to lapse into unconsciousness. "You didn't tell me what happened. I need a report, DiNozzo."

Tony blinked twice and at first Gibbs wondered if he'd heard him. "He called me using McGee's cell…said he'd kill him if I didn't come down, kept me talking on the phone so I couldn't call for help." He swallowed, and licked his tongue over his lips. "Forced me into the trunk, but you already know that – right?"

Gibbs nodded. "You did well to escape."

"Not that well, I ended up getting shot." Tony huffed a dry humorless laugh.

"What happened after you got away?"

He grew alarmed when Tony's lids started to close. "DiNozzo. Finish your report, Special Agent."

Tony's eyes sprang back open. "I found John, or he found me." He smirked. "Anyway, he recognized me through a picture you'd shown him. By the way he's a big fan of yours, Boss. How did you meet?"

Now wasn't the time to tell Tony about his car. It wasn't a job he was looking forward to, but given the circumstances he hoped he got the chance to do it later. "Never mind. How did you take Ferris down?"

"John's as stubborn as you Gibbs, he wouldn't leave. While we were arguing about it we heard Ferris coming." Tony coughed. His face creased with pain and his chest started heaving, struggling to take in enough air. Gibbs could see him getting weaker. He wasn't going to let him die. Not if he could help it.

"C'mon, Tony - I need this information."

"Wasn't much of a plan, but we had no more time. John told me Ferris hadn't seen him so he played the drunk bum routine. Plan was he would bump into him, distract the bastard long enough so I could disarm him. Whether he recognized him or not I dunno, but Ferris was pissed. John barely had a chance to get near before he shot him. I saw red and rammed him in the gut. I heard the gun go off but seriously, Boss...I didn't know he'd shot me. I was just glad to have him on the ground. Didn't give him an opportunity to get back up." Tony grinned then his face went slack and slumped to the side.

Gibbs pushed down harder on the wound but all he got was more blood on his hands.

"Don't you _dare_ die on me, DiNozzo." But Tony was unconscious. His words went unheard.

As the paramedics arrived he moved aside to let them do their job. He didn't move far. He stayed watching, feeling helpless as they worked to save his life.

He'd lost too many people. Seen too many of them die. He hoped with every fibre of his being Tony would survive. He didn't think he could cope losing another member of his family…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thanks again to all the lovely people who reviewed! Your comments really make my day!

So, Tony is in big trouble again. I hope you enjoyed the whump and the chapter. If you did - please review and let me know! Thanks - Joanie.


	21. Chapter 21

**END OF THE LINE**

**CHAPTER 21**

Tim dragged himself from the bathroom and crawled back under the covers. He felt like crap. It was bad enough getting caught out like a probie. It was a simple assignment and he'd screwed it up big time. He'd let Tony down and betrayed Gibbs trust in him. Now, throwing up every few minutes, made his misery complete.

When the paramedics arrived he'd felt fine. Ziva had wanted to stay with him, but he told her to go with Gibbs and he would join them as soon as he was cleared. At least that was the plan, then the sickness started. After being prodded and stuck with so many needles he wondered if he had any blood left, the docs eventually told him the canister didn't contain anything life threatening. The pounding headache and constant vomiting just made him wish he was dead. Then he remembered Tony…

Abby said he was in a bad way. That was hours ago, so surely he must be out of surgery by now? Tim threw back the covers to go find out for himself when the bile rose once again. He grabbed for the basin but it might just as well have been a million miles away. Suddenly it appeared under his chin – Gibbs.

His boss said nothing as he held the basin with one hand and supported his back with the other. When he was finished retching, the same firm hand helped him back against the pillows and handed him a glass of water. It tasted good, but the lingering acid reflux was still hanging around. He only risked a few sips.

"Sorry about that, boss."

"Don't be. Not your fault."

"I should have spotted him, Boss. Tony got shot because of me."

Gibbs shrugged. "Yeah, you should…but you didn't pull the trigger, McGee, and Tony's going be okay. He lost a lot of blood but the bullet managed to miss anything vital. He got out of surgery a few minutes ago."

Tim felt the tension leave his body. "That's great…Well not _great _as he got shot. I'm glad he's going to be all right."

"We all got lucky today." Gibbs said in a low voice. It wasn't the lecture he'd been expecting and Tim waited for the other shoe to drop. Gibbs continued, giving no sign he was going to tear a strip off. "The doc says you're in for a rough night but the effects don't last long. Hopefully you'll get out of here tomorrow."

"Thanks for coming to see me. I know you've been worried about Tony."

The easy going manner disappeared and Gibbs stared at him. "Why wouldn't I?" He asked sounding hurt. "I worry about all of you, McGee. You're a member of my team…you're family."

"_Oh. _I'm sorry."

"And stop apologizing – it's getting old." Gibbs muttered and as he started to walk away he glimpsed at the emesis basin, grimacing. "I'll ask a nurse to get that."

"Night, Boss."

Gibbs' nod signalled his departure. When he'd first joined the team Gibbs' long silences used to make him nervous. It hadn't taken long before he'd learned the boss was economical with words. He only said what he needed to. When he did, it was always relevant and worth listening too.

Fact was Gibbs was more a father to him than his own dad. Gibbs was demanding and expected the best, but he always acknowledged a job well done. Not like the Admiral. As a kid he'd tried everything to please him. It was never good enough. Now, he no longer tried…

Tim nestled into the pillows and allowed the exhaustion he'd been keeping at bay to overwhelm him. It had been a lousy day but at least they'd caught Ferris and most important, Tony was going to be okay. He kept that thought in his mind as he drifted off. Hoping the sickness would let up long enough so he could get some sleep this time.

ooooOoooo

The adrenaline high was long gone, now it was only caffeine keeping him awake. He wanted a hot shower, a stiff bourbon and a full eight hours, but Gibbs was going nowhere till he finished what he'd set out to do.

McGee looked like a wet rag, so miserable he didn't have the heart to give him a proper dressing down. He'd been conservative with the truth about Tony too. It was true that the bullet missed anything vital, but the damn thing had caused enough damage to warrant ten units of blood over a three hour surgery. For a while it was touch and go. Tony was now in intensive care with a fifty/fifty chance of survival. The docs were being cautious but they were good enough odds for him. DiNozzo would make it. He'd survived worse.

He'd sent the rest of the team home, and intended to check in on him later. First there was another visit to make.

John was half asleep when he came in. There was a large dressing on the right of his forehead, but cleaned and dressed in a hospital gown he looked better than he'd ever seen him.

At the sight of him John stirred and shuffled up into a sitting position. "How's Tony?"

Gibbs came to stand by the side of the bed. "Alive, thanks to you."

The man visibly relaxed. "That's good to hear. He risked his life to save me."

Gibbs smiled. "From what I hear you made a good team. You could have left him, John, but you didn't. I owe you." Neither man spoke for a minute. John colored slightly, clearly embarrassed by the praise so Gibbs broke the silence. "What are you going to do now? I could make a few enquiries. Help you find work."

"Thanks, Gibbs, but I think I might have a job. The diner needs a short order chef. I worked as a cook in my hometown café before I joined up. It's not a sure thing but one of the waitresses is a cousin of the owner. She's putting in a good word for me."

"Well, if it falls through or if you need anything – be sure to let me know."

John extended a hand and Gibbs shook it.

"One more thing." Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "I called your daughter. She's been trying to find you, John. She wants you to call."

The former bum slumped back against the pillows and drew a hand through his long, straggly hair. "It's been too long, Gibbs. I'm a recovering alcoholic. What happens if I screw up again? I'd hate to put her through that."

"Life doesn't come with guarantees. All I know is if I got the chance to speak to my daughter again…I'd take it."

John's hands trembled slightly as he picked up the number. He looked up when Gibbs put a cell phone onto the bed. "She's expecting your call. It's a burner phone, I don't need it back."

It was John's decision to make so he left him alone. The guy was smart and brave. He hoped he had enough of both to do the right thing…

ooooOoooo

The crystal clear blue water looked inviting but that would mean getting wet. Tempting as it was, right now all he wanted to do was work on his tan.

Tony sipped his drink and watched the women passing by, his admiring gaze hidden by Ray-Bands. They normally passed in groups of two or four, skirting the edge of the white sands, laughing when they misjudged the tide and got their cute varnished toes soaked by the incoming waves. Then came the one he'd been waiting for.

She was a little older than the others but no less attractive because of it. The white tee she was wearing covered more than a bikini would but wet, it left nothing to the imagination. She spotted him and her glare would have made most men quake in their boots. Tony just grinned as she stormed over. Her wet hair falling into her eyes as it swung in damp tendrils around her face and down her shoulders.

"Hi, Kate…it's good to see you. Does this mean I'm dead? 'Cause if it does, Heaven doesn't look too bad from where I'm sitting."

She gave him a tight smile and stood with her hands on her hips. "You're not dead, Tony, but don't tempt me. What makes you think you'd get into Heaven anyway." Kate picked at the wet tee in distaste. "I might have guessed you'd pick this look when you decided to dream me up."

"Well it is a _very_ good look." He grinned, then he remembered what he'd done and his smile faded. "Look, Kate, I'm sorry I forgot about you. I…I don't know how I could've done that."

"That's right, Tony, you forgot about me – for all of two minutes. I've got news for you, Frat boy, you're not infallible. You are one of the most childish, egotistical and infuriating men I ever met…but you're also one of the bravest. I always felt safe when I was with you. I knew you had my back."

"I couldn't stop Ari from killing you."

Kate rolled her eyes, and gave him the look of exasperation he remembered only too well. "And there you go again! Like I said before, you're not Superman. No one is infallible, not even Gibbs. You need to give yourself a break, Tony. And you need to wake up. It's time to stop hiding out in this fantasy you've created and join the world again. Oh, don't worry. I'll be around to give you a hard time when you do finally pass over. That's _provided_ you make it up here. Listen. When you see Gibbs, tell him I said hi." Kate looked wistful as she glanced at the water. "I can't remember the last time I went swimming." Suddenly she turned wearing a grin and winked. "Last one in the water is a rotten egg."

He ran after her into the spray, but by the time he reached the edge of the beach she'd disappeared and so had the water. He was lying in a hospital bed, the sun from a nearby window shining in his eyes.

"Bout time you came round."

The statement sounded like a rebuke, but Gibbs looked relieved. Tony tried to lift his head but gave up the attempt when the room started spinning. As the memory of what had happened filtered back, he realized he'd got lucky. Survival though came at a price. He ached all over and there was a sharp burning pain in his side. From the fuzzy, heavy way his brain was digesting information, he reckoned the pain was masked by the meds. He could only guess how bad he'd feel without them. Tony lifted a hand to scratch his face surprised to find it covered in cuts and bruises. His two broken fingers were heavily strapped up again. Then he remembered how that happened. "Please tell me I broke his nose."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah…and fractured his jaw. Ferris wanted to press charges for brutality. I've never seen Vance laugh so hard. So, how are you feeling?"

"Sore. Relieved it's over."

"We linked the gun he shot you with to the two other murders. We also found a bunch of antiques. Ziva took a tip from your book and realized the dimensions of his garage didn't look right. Turns out he'd hidden everything behind a false wall. We also found a couple of laptops, including the one missing from the storage unit. Between Tim and Abby we have the names of everyone involved in the operation, including his buyers. Ferris tired to do a deal, but we've got enough to put him away for life. Everyone is going down. It's a slam dunk, Tony."

Tony picked at the sheets on his bed. "I feel sorry for his kid. Life is hard enough without growing up without a father being around."

Gibbs let out a long sigh. "Yeah, well, he wasn't exactly dad of the year. It wasn't the happy family life he'd painted. His wife told me they were going through a nasty divorce. From what I hear he used the kid as a pawn to make things difficult for her." Gibbs shrugged. "Who knows what goes on inside a marriage? Anyway, she's back home to take care of her daughter. There's no evidence to suggest she's a part of the operation. I'm glad for the kid's sake. They're going to be okay. So are you."

Tony went quiet for a moment. Physically he was a mess but mentally, emotionally he did feel better. The torture he'd suffered would live with him forever but in taking Ferris down, at least he'd proved to himself he wasn't a victim.

"You should go home, Boss. You look tired."

Gibbs'mouth twitched. "You telling me what to do now, DiNozzo?"

"Someone has to." He smiled. "Go on. I'm fine."

"Yeah…I know." Gibbs rose to his feet and winced slightly as he stretched out his back. "I'll see you later, Tony."

He heard a slight hiss and as more meds were delivered into his veins, Tony could feel sleep drag him under. As Gibbs reached the door he remembered something he'd promised to do. "Kate says hi…"

Gibbs turned, stared, but the man on the bed was already sleeping. He shook his head but was wearing a small smile as he walked away…

ooooOoooo

EPILOGUE

Downtime sucked. Back in Baltimore Tony knew guys who made a habit of bunking off but regardless of how hot the girl was, or what game was in town, personally he didn't get it. His work was pretty much his life, NCIS much more than that. They were the family he'd always wanted but never had. The glue that kept his life together and made it all make sense.

Senior was back on the scene, something he'd never expected, but the addition to his life wasn't unwelcome. Nonetheless, his father was unreliable. Tony had forgiven him for the betrayal in his past, but forgiving was not the same as forgetting. Fact was his father was also damaged goods. He couldn't help being the way he was, doing the things he did. Gibbs would never have his old man's charm but his boss was the real influence in his life. His uncompromising stance could grate at times, but he never let him down.

Honesty meant everything. He'd rather have someone who told him how it was and had his back, than be bolstered up with flattery and meaningless platitudes. Gibbs was always there when he needed a head slap to bring him down to earth, or a pep talk when he was at his lowest. He missed him. He missed all the team. He wanted back to work.

It hadn't been too bad in the beginning. Unable to do more than shuffle between the couch and bed he was content to watch re-runs of his favorite movies. That grew old as he'd started feeling better, getting antsy as frustration crept in. Five weeks on his wounds were mostly healed. The only obstacle preventing his return to duty, his psych evaluation.

He'd never been comfortable talking about his feelings. Tony understood the doc was only trying to do her job but he'd rather get shot than laying his emotions bare. That sort of brought him back to where he was now…

Doctor Keeler was nice, attractive even with a Michelle Pfeiffer look going on. In the beginning he'd tried to win her over with the old DiNozzo charm. It even worked for a while. At least he'd thought so, until it became clear she wasn't buying any of it. Several appointments later his heart sank when he realized he wasn't getting out of it. If he wanted back to work, he would have to give her something.

When he walked into the office he knew it was make or break time. She was waiting for him to address the elephant in the room. Come clean about what they'd been dancing around for weeks. The torture.

His palms were sweating, but he pinned a smile on his face as he nonchalantly sat down on the easy chair as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was showtime…

"I hope you're ready, Doc, because I don't intent to repeat this more than once."

She nodded, and sensing his need to get it over with stayed silent until he finished describing as little of the nightmare he could get away with. By the time he was done he felt drained. His hands clenched into fists on his lap.

"Thank you, Tony. I know how hard that must have been. How do you feel now?"

How did he feel? She was watching him closely, waiting for his mask to come back up but despite wanting to run away he stood his ground and kept it honest.

"That's kind of a dumb question, Doc." He gave her a half smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm angry. Angry at the men who did it, angry at the fact they're dead and it wasn't me who took them down." He took a calming breath, scared he would give too much of himself away. "I suppose I'm also angry at myself for being careless. I should've known something was up…But hey I've accepted I'm not perfect. Coming to see you has really helped. "

It was a big fat lie. He still awoke drenched in sweat. Sitting bolt upright in bed, his heart racing so fast it felt like it was trying to burst out his chest…Tony wasn't about to share this with anyone - ever. The mask was firmly back in place but he kept eye contact, and didn't flinch as the dark brown eyes assessed him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth.

As she began to write he kept his demeanour relaxed and refrained from conversation. He hoped he'd done enough. Hoped he'd bared enough of his soul to get the pass he desperately wanted and get back to work.

ooooOoooo

Some people got solace in church, but Gibbs' basement was his sanctuary.

There, it was just him and the wood. A place where he shut out the world, all the bad memories pushed to the side as he fashioned the solid material into whatever he wanted. If the plan didn't work out, it didn't matter. No harm, no foul. He would either discard it, or start again. It was a solitary activity but he didn't consider himself to be a solitary man. Just a man who made the best of whatever life gave him. He was content with his own company, but wasn't adverse to the occasional visitor. Family were always welcome.

When he heard the familiar tread at the top of the stairs he suppressed a smile. "What did the doc say?"

Tony stopped mid step and rolled his eyes. Gibbs knew why. His team thought he knew everything. He didn't. He was just observant.

"She still wants to see me every couple of weeks, but I'm coming back to work. I start back Monday.

"Good," Gibbs turned round, "it's been hard on the team being a man down."

"Gee_, thanks_, Boss. It's nice to have been missed."

Gibbs said nothing but tipped the contents from two glass beakers and poured in a healthy measure of bourbon in each. He handed one over to Tony and raised his glass. "Welcome back, Tony. Here's to survival."

Tony cocked an eyebrow and the two men shared a look of understanding as they drank to the toast.

"How do you do it, Gibbs?"

He didn't need to ask what he meant. His nightmares started after Shannon and Kelly were murdered. Since then a bunch of others had joined them. Finding Tony badly beaten in the movie theatre, so confused he didn't even recognize him. That had hurt more than he would ever let on.

"I get up in the morning. Shower, brush my teeth and start my day. I'd be lying if I told you the nightmares go away…but they get less, easier to deal with as time goes by." He saw the pain hidden in the younger man's eyes. "You okay?"

Tony stared at the amber liquid as he swirled it about his glass. "Not yet…but I will be." He nodded towards the lump of wood Gibbs was working on. "What are you making?"

Gibbs looked at the man he considered to be a son, and accepted that was as much of an answer as he was going to get. He'd been in that dark place. Knew that only time would help heal the wounds. That, and the support of family. If or when Tony wanted to share he knew where to come. He doubted that would happen as Tony was like him in more ways either man would care to admit. DiNozzo might talk up a storm, but it was just that – talk. Deep down Tony was as private as he was. Right now, Gibbs decided to give him the out he was looking for.

"I'm making birdhouses for the VA hospital to sell. They've having a fete at the end of the month to raise money for Feed Our Vets. They're pretty easy to make. Want to give it a try?"

Tony paused for a moment and took another sip before coming to join him at the work bench. "Have you heard from John?"

"Yeah, I stopped by the diner. He makes a mean pot roast."

"Good, I'm glad. I'll need to stop by sometime." Tony picked up one of the half finished birdhouses. "Okay, what do I do?"

Gibbs took some sandpaper and started smoothing off the rough edges. "Hold the wood steady, and don't go against the grain. If you follow my lead I'll show you how it's done."

Tony glanced up and smiled. "I always do, Boss…"

Gibbs shook his head and smiled. "You're gonna do just fine, Tony."

"Yeah…" He finished the rest of his drink and put down the beaker. "So…I was thinking we should all go out to celebrate."

"Sounds good. Where do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking Italian. I know a place where they have lasagne to die for…"

The End.

**Well that's a wrap!**

**I hope you enjoyed the story, and many thanks again to all who reviewed! It's been a pleasure to write this for you, and I've loved reading all your feedback. And please review this chapter too. I'd really like to know what you thought of the ending!**

**I also want to give a huge thanks to my wonderful beta and good pal Sterenyk Strey. She's put up with getting chapters at the last minute and hasn't complained once!**

**Again, many thanks for all your support.**

**Joanie**


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